


Looks Can Be Deceiving

by corvusdraconis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Centaurs, Death, Death Eaters, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Magic, Romance, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 441,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/AO/EWE: What if Severus Snape had taken Hermione Granger under wing secretly during her time at Hogwarts? What if Draco Malfoy really wasn't the bigot he let everyone think he was? </p><p>(Follows canon mostly up until the end of GoF, and then detours off into AU territory w/Severus as father figure)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Beginning of Year Three, Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: AO/OOCishness with Ron being a prat. If you really like Ron, sorry about that. ;p
> 
> Harry Potter and the universe as seen by JKR is not mine and I'm not making a dime off this.
> 
> Rita Skeeter is still a daft cow, and I still love reviews. :) Enjoy.
> 
> This story is now complete. It's been a whirlwind ride, and I'm so very happy for all of your support. Truly. This story has grabbed me by the nose and dragged me along, forcing my fingers to write it. Sometimes, no one was more surprised than I was how things worked out, but from beginning to end, it has been the kind of story where I felt like writing it was coming back to an old friend. The pairing [HG/VK] was utterly unexpected and rare, from what people have told me. (And for those of you that know I tend to ship HG/SS, you would have thought this strange...) But, for those of you coming to this story for the first time, all that I ask is that you give the characters time to prove that in this story, everything is as it should be. Much like in life, sometimes we find ourselves with people we never thought we would.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronald makes his feelings known, and Hermione escapes to a place where she doesn't have to deal with his attitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout this story, I use colons to signify telepathy, thus :Hi there.: is mind-speech.

**Chapter One: Prologue: Hogwarts, Year Three**

"At least I'm not a dirty, flea-bitten animagus!" yelled Ron, his face getting as red as his hair. "They're nothing but trouble! Look at all the trouble they cause." He threw down the book he had borrowed from Hermione and cast it into the dirt in his anger.

Harry Potter looked like he was going to deck his friend of uncounted years as Hermione Granger's eyes flashed with dangerous fire that threatened to spread to her hair and set it aflame.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Hermione said through gritted teeth as she picked up her treasured book from the mud. "When you are done blaming everyone else for your lack of priorities, try pulling your head out of your arse."

Hermione clutched her book to her chest and spun on her heels, storming out of the courtyard and down the path outside Hogwarts towards Black Lake.

As the figure of Hermione Granger disappeared down the path, a certain blond Slytherin leaned against one of the courtyard pillars. "Good one, weasel," Malfoy goaded with the lift of his chin. "I think you managed to go an entire day without pissing off the only reason you're passing Potions."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron replied. "Nobody asked you for your opinion."

"At least I insult her to her face, weasel," Malfoy countered with a sniff. "You insult her without even realizing how horrible you are."

"What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron shouted.

"Well there's the rub, isn't it?" Malfoy sneered. "You don't even realize there's a problem. Fft. And you think I have problems."

"Get out of my face, Malfoy," Ron growled.

"Gladly," Draco said with a twirl of his hand. "You're not even worth the breath."

Draco shoved himself off the pillar he was leaning on and left the courtyard, leaving Ron and Harry alone.

Ron grumbled, kicking stones in the courtyard around. "I suppose you have something to say too?" he groused at Harry.

Harry shook his head, running his hand through his black hair. "Sometimes, Ron, you really are an inconsiderate git."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco followed the path down towards the lake, letting his mind wander as he let his feet do the navigating by themselves. He wandered off the path after a while, heading towards the side of Hogwarts where a hidden nook remained unseen from the path. He walked into the nook, placed his hand on a seemingly random brick and said, "Neutrality."

The tug on his navel yanked him towards another destination with a disorientating lurch before he found himself on a grassy knoll overlooking the lake from the opposite side.

He squinted slightly as the sun reflecting off the lake temporarily blinded him, but his eyes adjusted after a while. He scanned the area and saw the two that usually found peace at this particular spot. "Hey," Draco greeted softly. "Mind if I join you two?"

The dark colored eagle owl turned his head eerily to the side to look at him and gave a raspy "Whooo." Eagle owls that flew in and out of Hogwarts normally came in shades of brown and had yellow or orange eyes, but this one was distinctly monochrome. His feathers were all different shades of dark save for a small collar of white feathers at his throat. His eyes were obsidian and seemed to pull in all the light around him like a black hole.

The eagle owl was perched on the back what was possibly the only gryphon to grace the skies of Hogwarts. Intelligent brown eyes watched him through an eagle's face. Her curved beak sloped down in a graceful slant off her dark brownish gold feathers that ran over her head and down her back where they disappeared into the tawny hide of a lioness body. Dark wings folded across her sides as her long tail flipped up and back down idly as she regarded him. Her rear legs curled around her belly in typical lion fashion, but her front "legs" were that of a giant eagle. Dark and undoubtedly wickedly curled talons sported dangerous points.

Draco bowed his head, despite knowing that the animagus was not like the hippogryph that required such formalities, but it had become habitual to greet the both of them in such a manner.

The gryphon gave a low chattering call and bowed her head slightly.

Draco flopped down beside her and leaned back against her warm side. "Weasley's a prat," Draco said with a sigh. "You're better off without him."

The eagle owl flipped out his wing and whapped Draco upside the head.

"Ow," Draco grunted. "What was that for, Uncle?"

The eagle owl turned his head and glared at him silently.

Draco took in a deep breath. "I know he's your friend and all, but he really doesn't respect you. He wouldn't even pass potions if it wasn't for you."

The eagle owl made a rasping sound and the gryphon snorted, clacking her beak together in some semblance of a chuckle.

"It's true, Hermione," Draco fussed. "Look, I know Potter and Weasley would never believe I talk to you like a normal person, but that doesn't mean I don't see how he treats you. Hell, look at you and Uncle Severus. No one would believe you two could enjoy sitting on a hill together watching the lake and discuss a hundred and one ways to chop potion ingredients together, or… flying off into the sunset together for that matter."

The eagle owl gave his godson a very stoic and piercing owlish gaze.

"Oh you know I don't mean it like that, Severus," Draco said with a shake of his head. "You know that just the fact the two of you get along let alone you teaching her things outside of class would turn Hogwarts on its arse quicker anything. Let's not even get into the fact if they knew I was out here sharing space with 'mudblood filth' without throwing hexes would probably cause most of the student body and my father to have a heart attack."

Hermione turned her head to look at Draco and nudged him with her beak, causing him to oof. Severus extended a wing again and whapped him upside the head with an audible crack.

"Hey!" Draco complained, shoving her beak slightly and rubbing his head. "You know I don't mean that anymore, even if I do have to say it to your face in public."

Draco slowly extended his hand and soothed the feathers on Hermione's head. The were soft and smooth, yielding under his touch like finely wrought silk. "I'm still jealous that you see fit to teach Hermione how to be an animagus, but you won't teach me, Uncle."

The eagle owl make a pffffting sound with his beak, sounding very human.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said shaking his head. "I know. You saved my life countless times. That was a gift enough. I'm still jealous."

Hermione took Draco's hand in her beak, mouthing it playfully.

Draco smirked. "You really are lucky to be apprenticing under my uncle, Hermione, even if no one can know you are. He really is the best at what he does."

Hermione turned her eagle eyes to the eagle owl on her back. Something seemed to pass between Master and Apprentice.

"I swear you two speak mind to mind," Draco complained. "That's not fair either."

The eagle owl turned his head and gave Draco a very smug owlish look.

The unlikely trio shared a companionable silence as the sun began to set, casting the lake and Hogwarts with a deep orange and red glow.

Severus ruffled his feathers and gave a yawning hoot causing Hermione to echo him, opening her beak wide in an yawn.

Draco rolled to his hands and knees and pushed himself up as Hermione stood on all fours and stretched, her tail swishing back and forth as her wings unfurled.

Severus rasped a hoot and took off over the lake, heading back towards Hogwarts to make whatever scheduled appearance he did at the hour.

Hermione nudged Draco with her head, wedging her beak under his arm and practically lifting him off the ground. She pulled her head back and cocked her head at him, swinging it towards her back.

Draco looked at her, unsure. "Are you sure?"

Hermione's brown eyes glared at him in a manner that made Draco swear that his Uncle's mannerisms were wearing off on her. She'd be pinching the bridge of her nose and calling people dunderheads if she wasn't careful.

Draco bounced off his heels and vaulted onto her back, pulling his legs up and around her wings. She waited for him to settle and hook his arms around her neck for better purchase.

With a surge of her legs, she was in a full run and her wings flipped outward and the thermals carried them upward. Hermione gave a clarion call that echoed Draco's inner exaltation as the wind blew through his hair in a way that seemed so much more intimate than when sitting astride a broom. He chuckled as he remember Hermione once saying that flying was not her thing. Broom flying was definitely not her thing, but what she was doing now… he had no doubt that it was her thing.

Hermione carried him in lazy circles around the lake and then banked down towards Hagrid's hut. With more grace than he would have given a creature with the shared mismatch of legs could have, Hermione touched down with barely a sound. She trotted behind Hagrid's hut where they would not be seen together.

Draco slid off her back and smiled at her, bowing his head in thanks. Ronald Weasley had no idea that he had insulted his friend with his anti-animagus comments. He really was a moron. It brought him some private satisfaction that he was privy to a secret that only his Uncle, he, and Hermione knew. One day, he would be there to gloat when Ron finally figured out the extent of his own idiocy. He hoped it would the same day that Hermione finally dumped his ass. That would be a red letter day.

"Thanks," Draco said out loud. "I'll see you in potions class tomorrow morning where I'll be sure to insult your teeth."

Hermione clacked her beak and nudged him with it.

Draco placed his hand on the feathers of her head and stroked it gently. "Don't let the weasel ruin your evening, Granger," he said softly. "He's not worth it."

Hermione nipped his hand with her beak and met his gaze, her dark brown irises met his cool gray ones.

Draco smirked. "I'll be sure to insult him some more in class, just for you."

Hermione gave a soft eagle whistle and unfurled her wings and took to the air again with a silence that echoed her Master's earlier silent wingbeats.

After watching the gryphon disappear into the darkening sky, Draco allowed the arrogant mask to fall across his face and harden his visage into the face that all of Gryffindor hated and Slytherin rallied behind. He straightened his back, turned his chin up, curled his lip up in a half scowl, and walked back up the path towards Hogwarts.


	2. Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds herself in Potions class, surrounded by dunderheads.

**Chapter 2: Potions**

“Psst,” Ron called towards Hermione. “What do you put in after the catepillars?”

Hermione slid her eyes sideways to regard her friend with a look that was not the overly willing and helpful regard that normally graced her face during potions class. “Follow the instructions on the board, Ron,” she hissed softly to him. She grasped the Shrivelfig in her hand and peeled it completely and then began to shake it, making it look like she was strangling the life out of it.

“’Mione!” Ron whispered. “What are you doing to that fig? Do I need to do that?”

Harry whapped Ron upside the head and pointed to the board.

Ron cast his eyes down temporarily chastised, but his fingers drummed against the desk in front of his cauldron. He watched Hermione adding four of something particularly gross into her cauldron and throw in chopped roots in after it. Her potion turned a vibrant green.

Rob stared at the board and that daisy roots were supposed to be added before the caterpillars. Why was she adding daisy roots? Maybe he was wasn’t reading far enough into the recipe again. He glared at his textbook. Wormwood was next. He grabbed the wormwood and dumped it into his cauldron, stirring vigorously. His potion started to look an unhealthy looking green.

Ron shot a look over towards where Malfoy and his two cronies were fussing over their cauldron. Crabbe looked at the board with a wrinkled face, obviously not getting something. Malfoy gestured in a chopping motion and pointed to something on Crabbe’s desk, smacking his House-mate upside the head with his hand.

Ron peered at the board. Juice four leeches. Gross. He screwed up his face as he pinched the leech between his fingers and juiced it, trying not to scream.

He shot a glance over to Hermione who was taking a dropper to a small cup where she had obviously finished juicing her leeches. She was adding the drops to her cauldron with one hand as she shook a Shrivelfig in the other. She squeezed the juice from the fig into her cauldron until her potion turned a bright shade of pink.

Ron stirred his cauldron after he dumped the leeches in, angrily agitating his potion. He placed his head over his hand and glared towards Hermione, trying to figure out what process she was using. He flicked his eyes over to stare at Harry, who had just finished adding the juice of his leeches into his cauldron rather than the leeches themselves.

Ron attempted to fish the leech bodies out of his cauldron. His spoon caught on the edge of his cauldron and his arm jerked, sending the simmered leech bodies flying in various directions. One smacked Neville in the face, causing him to dump too much daisy root into his cauldron. One landed squarely in the middle of Harry’s textbook, which caused the black-haired wizard to shoot Ron a disgusted glare. One slapped into Hermione’s exposed skin of her hand causing her to drop her empty potion vial she was filling onto the floor. It shattered with an impressive spray of broken crystal.

Hermione jerked her head around to glare at Ron just as Neville’s over daisy-dosed cauldron blew up, coating Ron and Harry with light purple goo.

“What the hell, Neville!” Rob yelled as Harry and he struggled to remove their outer student robe to escape the scalding hot purple goo.

Snickers came from the Slytherin side of the classroom as the dark and imposing figure of the Potion Master of Hogwarts towered over them. “That will be five points from Gryffindor from the each of you dunderheads. After you are done marching your disgusting selves to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to make sure you haven’t… damaged yourselves permanently, you will serve detention tonight with Mr. Filch, seeing as I do not wish to have you serving detention anywhere near my potion ingredients tonight. March.” He flung his arm out in a point towards the classroom door.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said through gritted teeth as he grabbed his things and marched out the door as ordered. Neville, still dripping goo, sheepishly gathered his books and his toad and escaped the classroom before Snape could think of anything more horrible to do to him.

Snape spun and towered over Hermione, who was grasping her hand where the scalding potion-covered leech had collided with her skin. “You, Ms. Granger, will stay after class and clean up the mess on the floor, seeing as you cannot seem to hold onto your valuable flasks.”

More snickers came from the Slytherin side of the classroom as Hermione gritted her teeth. “Yes, Sir,” she answered flatly.

“The rest of you, times up,” Snape snapped. “Decanter whatever excuse for abysmal you have and put it on my desk. Three feet of parchment on shrinking potions will be due next class. Do not… be late.”

Shuffling and clattering filled the room as all the students brought what they had worked on and placed it on Snape’s over-sized desk. Hermione was still sitting at her desk as the classroom door shut.

When the door shut and the sound of footsteps faded, Snape waved his wand silently, warding the door to prevent intrusion. He approached Hermione silently. Waving his wand over the shattered remains of her flask, the pieces reassembled themselves and sealed together. He placed the flask on her desk with a sigh and held out his hand. “Let me see.”

Hermione winced and placed her injured hand in his.

Severus pulled a tin out from his robe and opened it, dipping his fingers into it. He gently rubbed it into the skin of her hand and watched it absorb. Hermione hissed slightly as the burn stung as he touched it, but as the ointment soaked in, she relaxed, feeling the cooling effect ease her nerves.

He pulled out a length of cloth from another of his bottomless robe pockets and wrapped her hand with it. It was tight enough to stay put, but loose enough not to hinder her movement while it healed. “The ointment will help speed along your healing. The burn is not so horrible that it will plague you for much longer than today.”

Hermione let out her breath slowly. “Thank you, Professor,” she said softly. He released her hand slowly, and she smiled as his delicate fingers brushed against her skin with a comfort that echoed a warm hug from someone other than Severus Snape.

The Potion Master tucked the ointment away as Hermione decanted her potion into the reassembled flask. The emerald green fluid glittered attractively in the flask.

Severus leaned over her shoulder and looked into her cauldron. “You used my recipe.”

“It seemed more appropriate,” Hermione answered him.

“Tell me why,” he replied.

“The Shrivelfigs need to be shaken in order to be in the right condition to be added. It makes sense to put them in after the caterpillars because they have to shaken before you add them. Putting them in later, however, changing the potion color, but it allows the rat spleens and minced daisy root to be added out of order, skipping the wormwood step completely. The five drops of leech juice can be taken from one leech instead of four, if you do it right, conserving ingredients. And the balance of the potion at this point allows you to finish with more fig and caterpillar instead of wasting cowbane in it. The stability makes it so you don’t have to heat the potion at a high temperature or do any stabilization wand work at the end,” Hermione spewed out a chain of rationale that made Severus smirk slightly.

“Insufferable Know-it-all,” he huffed, but there hadn’t been heat behind his words in years, at least when they were alone.

Hermione smiled at him tiredly. She took his rancor during classes as well as could be expected. Knowing that he could and would treat her like a normal human being when the eyes of Slytherin weren’t watching his every move made things easier. His caustic and scathing comments never failed him in class, and she found it easy to act hurt by them. Sometimes, however, his words hit a little too close too home, and it was in those moments that his mental voice would soothe her, even though his verbal one could not.

“Your potion is acceptable, Ms. Granger,” he said flatly. His face, as usual, was impassive, but the harder edges around his expression were relaxed. He was calm. He grasped the flask in his hand and tipped it, checking the viscosity and color in the light. “You did well. Next time try adding one anti-clockwise stir just as the potion starts turning and it with thicken slightly better. It is not imperative, but you will be happier with the results. Now… tell me why.”

Hermione closed her eyes, going through the process in her head. Her eyes opened. “The anti-clockwise stir will buffer the final color turn to be slower, thickening the viscosity and improving the concentration of the effect.”

Severus nodded silently. “Very good, Ms. Granger.” He turned towards his desk. “I will be grading your classes horrible attempts at potions. You may assist, if you wish. While you cannot grade them, you can, at least, tell me why I’m failing them.”

Hermione smirked, biting her lip as she tried to stifle a grin. “Yes, Master,” she chuckled.

Severus gave her an amused look, gesturing to the side chair by his desk that had been conveniently charmed to not be noticed save by the two of them.

Severus sat in his chair and picked up one of the flasks and tilted it to the side to check color and viscosity. His lip curled up as Hermione sat in the chair. He placed the potion in front of her as he quilled the grade into his grade book. “Troll. Tell me why.”

Hermione picked up the flask and tipped it. Pieces of “something” stuck to the side of the flask and the rest was overly runny. “Erm,” she started. “It wasn’t heated at all. These are just pieces of ingredients in water.”

“Correct,” he said, vanishing the contents of that particular flask and placing the empty flask in a crate next to him. “Now this one.”

Hermione stared at the second flask. It was a deep purple color and very thick. “It looks like a purple slug sneezed on it.”

Severus arched a brow. “How very technical of you, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione blushed and looked at it again. “Stirred too slow after adding the cowbane.”

“Or?”

Hermione concentrated. “Or… they stirred it too fast after adding the daisy root?”

“Are you telling me or asking me, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione took in a deep breath. “Telling you.”

Severus gave her a long-suffering look.

“Politely,” Hermione added with a smile.

Severus rolled his eyes. “You are correct,” he said dryly, vanishing the contents of the potion and tossing the flask into the crate.

The potion evaluations continued for the next hour until all of the flasks were evaluated. “At least not all of them were failures,” Hermione said cheerfully.

Severus arched a brow. “At least my godson hasn’t forgotten everything I pounded into his head when he was too young to actually be able to lift a cauldron.”

Hermione tilted her head. “There was the other one too. It was stable. Not too think and not too runny. It was also the right color.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Potter.”

Hermione sighed softly. Her friend was a sore spot with Severus and he they rarely spoke of why. Severus was a private sort, and his reasons for everything were as well guarded as the recipes he made up. At least, when it came to recipes, he was starting to share those with her, but when it came to Harry Potter, she knew that the only thing she would get in conversation in that regard was a curled lip and scowl.

“Have you been practicing your occlumency?” Severus asked, running his hand through his hair as if to comb it.

Hermione nodded. “I have been trying, but it’s been hard to know where I am failing since I can’t ask Harry or Ron to practice with me.”

Severus pulled out a bundle from his desk and unrolled it, pulling out a separate wand than he normally used. Until they had started with the lessons, Hermione had no idea that he had used multiple wands. “Show me,” he said.

Hermione sucked in her breath and filled her mind with mindlessly fluffy thoughts, chasing her more guarded secrets further within behind the library of her mind. She nodded to him.

“Legilimens,” he said, pointing his wand at her.

Hermione winced as he prodded through her thoughts, sniffing through her past conversations with Lavender that she used to fill up her outer thoughts. She knew that he was being harsh while he invaded rather than the subtle manner he would do if he really wanted to know something. He had begun to teach her how to sense such probes as well, but the main concern had been to guard against impatient and angry probes into her mind. The Dark Lord would never be subtle. He would invade her mind by force to unhinge her as quickly and as painfully as possible.

Hermione cried out as he found a hole in one of her walls, and he surged into the memory of one of her early birthdays. Severus stood over her very pink birthday cake that her mother had baked her. Mrs. Granger was clapping and encouraging the young Hermione to blow out her candles.

“Very pink,” Severus said dryly, his mental self leering over her birthday memory as though he had been there watching. “Keep me out.”

Hermione gritted her teeth and grasped onto the memory, pulling it towards her and shoving it back behind a different door, obfuscating its presence and surrounded it in other similar yet false memories.

One by one he’d find a hole in her defenses, and one by one she would cast him out from it, finding a better way to guard against it. As he fell into the memory of Ron accusing her familiar for eating his rat, Scabbers, Hermione flinched, tearfully flinging the walls down over that memory and casting him out with a force she had not used until then. For a moment, she saw Severus wincing in agony as the Dark Mark was branded onto his arm. The Dark Lord hissed in pleasure as he watched him attempt to endure the pain without whimpering like a young boy with no control.

She cast him out of her mind, tears streaming down her face as the combined painful memory of Ron accusing her of horrible things mixed with Severus’ painful memory of taking the Dark Mark. She struggled to enforce the shields of occlumency into place as he had taught her, chasing the emotion from her mind and thus from her body. Her eyes clouded, turning cold as her expression changed from tears to an eerie lack of emotion.

She looked up to meet her Master’s gaze, searching for a sign of his approval or displeasure. She knew that she had seen something he had not meant to reveal to her. It would be expected for him to be angry.

Severus placed his hand over hers. The warmth of it said more than any words could have. “Apparently, next we will work on your legilimency control,” he said dryly. His expression was tired, but there was no anger there.

“You’re not,” Hermione began.

“Angry?” Severus finished for her. “No. There have been things I have seen in your mind you never planned for me to know, just as there are things in mine you probably never thought you’d see. This is why these lessons are imperative. You must be able to shield your mind and know when someone is trying to look. One day, it may the only thing that keeps your loved ones safe. It must be instinctive. It must be constant. It must not falter no matter what other pains may be distracting you.”

Hermione nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes, I feel like I have to hide more of myself anymore than I can give.”

Severus’ mouth quirked upward. “Unfortunately, when people start saying you’re incapable of affect, that’s when you know you are succeeding, but for you, you must make people think that you are just as emotionally compromised as the next Gryffindor.”

Hermione smirked at him, meeting his eyes fearlessly. His dark eyes met hers with amusement.

“There can’t be two of us running around being cold, emotionless gits, after all,” Severus commented. “People will suspect something.”

Hermione laughed. She clasped Severus’ hand that had not left hers since she struggled to maintain her shielding. :Thank you, Severus,: she whispered mentally, using his name in her mind in a way she could not verbally. Verbal communication could be as warm or as cold as one dared to make it, but telepathy was more intimate. It allowed for something they could not do in the halls of Hogwarts.

:You are welcome, Hermione,: he replied into her mind. He withdrew his hand from hers and stood, rolling up his legilimency wand and stashing it into a cubbyhole in his desk. “The lunch hour approaches, Ms. Granger. I’m sure your friends are wondering what tortures I have inflicted upon you.”

Hermione stood and smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell them you had me picking glass off the floor with tweezers.”

“Indeed I did, Ms. Granger,” Severus replied evenly. “And do not forget the detention you will be serving with me tonight for your cheek.”

“Of course, my Master,” Hermione said with a bow of her head, gaining herself a softened expression from the Potion Master. Hermione’s use of his formal title had started when he had taken her under wing as his apprentice. Even though neither of them were allowed to acknowledge each other in public, she had begun to call him that as a sign of respect when they were alone. It had become something more, perhaps evolved into a sort of affection, as he too would often call her “his apprentice” with a tone that held none of the venom he had often laced into “Ms. Granger.” They were two simple words that had not been forced into something hurtful by either of them. Yet, there was nothing simple about their relationship or the words they used to describe it, despite outer appearances.

“See you this evening,” Severus said.

Hermione nodded, picking up her books. They shared a glance that was both impassive to outsiders and warm to the other. Before she opened the door, she straightened her posture and closed her eyes, summoning as much emotional overflow as she could muster on command. Tears tracked down her eyes, and she sniffed as her nose began to run. She screwed her face into one of a victim and opened the door, storming out of it like one who had been chewed out for something she had not done.

“And you will serve detention with me this evening, Ms. Granger, for your impertinent cheek,” Severus boomed from his desk in the classroom.

“Yes, SIR,” Hermione hissed, storming down the hallway as the door closed behind her.

:Enjoy your lunch, my Apprentice,: Severus whispered to her mind as she climbed the spiralling staircase.

:Thank you, Master,: she replied through a face full of indignant tears she made sure the Slytherins on their way to their Common Room saw as she passed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Pffff, look guys, it’s the mudblood,” Draco sneered from the wall he was leaning on. Crabbe and Goyle were standing on either side of him, chuckling. “Looks like she finally learned her place, slopping around on the floors with the rest of the mud.”

Crabbe and Goyle smiled cruelly in her direction, obviously happy with what Draco was spewing.

“You two go check on Potter and the Weasel,” Draco ordered. “I want to know exactly how much that potion burned.”

Crabbe nodded in approval, gesturing to Goyle. The two of them sneered at Hermione as they turned and went the direction of the hospital wing.

When they were sure both of the two Slytherin boys were gone, Draco inclined his head to the cubby between the pillars.

“I saw the Weasel hit you with something,” Draco said, his arrogant mask replaced with concern. He eyed the bandage Severus had wrapped around her hand. “Are you okay?”

Hermione nodded, wiping the tears away from her face and attempting to stop the waterworks. “Yeah,” she sniffed pathetically. “He put ointment on it and bound it for me.”

“Wow, you really know how to turn on the tears, Granger,” he chuckled, offering her a cloth from his robe.

Hermione blotted the tears from her face and handed it back. “Sorry, once they start, it’s hard to get them to stop.”

“Useless Gryffindors,” Draco fussed, smiling at her. “You’re like the anti-Severus. He wears a mask of the unemotional bastard, and you wear the mask of the emotional weeping well.”

Hermione snorted as she sniffled, attempting to wrestle her tearing to a dull roar. “Shut it, Draco,” she sniffled in a half laugh.

Draco grinned. “Just so you know, the weasel is in rare form in the Great Hall. He’s trying to convince everyone that your half-Kneazle ate his rat.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in a very Snape-like gesture.

“Careful, Ari, you’re channeling your inner Snape,” Draco smirked, reverting to his pet name for her. They had found it in a name book in the library that meant both “lion” and “eagle” in some random Scandinavian tongue. It seemed terribly appropriate considering her animagus form. Again, much like Severus and Hermione’s use of “Master” and “Apprentice,” they had found a name that they could use in private that wouldn’t have the bad connotations of “Granger” and “mudblood” that normally spewed forth from Draco’s Slytherin pure-blood supremacist mouth.

Hermione froze, realizing what she had done. The realization just made it worse because she rubbed the area between her eyes more furiously.

Draco laughed. “Hey, my mother sent me chocolate chip cookies with our family owl. I saved you one. I managed to hide it away before Pansy descended upon them like a Kneazle in catnip. I know you like your chocolate.” He pulled out a wrapped a bundle and handed it to her.

Hermione unwrapped the bundle and saw the huge chocolate chip cookie that literally was the size of half her face. “Wow, Draco, thank you! Does your mum bake often?”

Draco shrugged. “She never used to. I think she’s kinda gone all home-maker now that I’m not there to fuss over. That’s what father seems to think, anyway.”

Hermione nibbled on the extra large cookie with a smile. “I’d ask you to tell your mother she’s a great cook, but…”

“Yeah, I know,” Draco said. “It’s hard to be polite when you are supposed to hate someone’s guts. It’s okay. I’ll force Pansy to write mum a note thanking her for all the cookies she ate.”

Hermione coughed into her hand, wrapping the remains of the cookie back up and stashing it in her robe pocket. She could barely manage a few bites out of the one cookie she had. It was hard to imagine eating multiple ones.

“Well, I better go before Twiddle-D and Twiddle-Duh get back from that errand I made up for them,” Draco said with a smirk. “Be careful when you go into the Great Hall, Ari. I wouldn’t want you get detention for decking your House-mate.”

Hermione laughed. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

“He’s going to learn one of these days,” Draco said. “When you lose patience and take it out on his face with your scary hooked beak and talons.”

“Your uncle would not forgive me for such a horrible lack of control,” she giggled.

“It would be worth it,” Draco grinned.

“For you,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

Draco winked and walked down the hall towards the Slytherin Common Room.

Waiting for his footfalls to fade into silence, Hermione stepped out of the hidden niche and walked towards the Great Hall in the hopes that she could obtain lunch without too much drama.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

“I’m worried about tomorrow,” Hermione confessed.

“Hrm?” Severus said as he looked up from the parchments he was reading at his desk.

Hermione placed a rolled up parchment on his desk.

Severus looked at the parchment with a lifted eyebrow. “Let me guess. Your essay on shrinking potions.”

Hermione cast her gaze down. “Maybe.”

“Hrmph,” he grunted. “Apparently, I need to find more things for you to do.”

“Please no,” Hermione pleaded. “I have a monstrous equation to deal with in arithmancy.”

Severus eyed her curiously. “Professor Vector give you that horrible problem she pulled out of a book that looked like a pyramid mated with rhombus?”

Hermione nodded, slumping her shoulders. “It’s really horrible.”

“How far did you get?”

Hermione dug through her bag and pulled out a piece of rolled up parchment. She unrolled it wearily and placed it in his palm.

The Potion Master sniffed and placed his hands on the parchment to pin it on his desk. His finger traced across the parchment as with his eyes as his gaze went from her main equation and followed it through multiple deviations. Most of problem was complete, but she had stopped towards the end, where a transition point had ended in frustration. “You forgot to transfer the second part of this equation,” he said as he pointed towards a point in her calculations. “That’s why your end calculation started to fall into disarray.” He pointed a long, pale finger towards her end result, tracing it back towards the junction. “Your work is correct until this point.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she traced her fingers along the way where Severus had pointed. She searched frantically for a quill.

Severus handed her his writing quill, watching in amusement as she furiously quilled out the remainder of the equation.

She dipped his writing quill into the ink pot and scrawled the numbers across the parchment, drawing in the lines to link them together and bind them. With a final sweep of his quill, she traced the binding circles across the equations, linking the numbers together in the chain they were meant for. The parchment flashed with a rush of magic, imprinting overlapping circles and triangles, number chains, equations, and a web of minor strands that held the rest into a firm shape. The pattern rose up from the parchment and spun, forming into the image of a golden pyramid with a brilliant shining eye hovering on top.

Hermione gave Severus a look of pure joy as she watched her equation snap into place. She reached out her fingers as if to touch the equation as it floated in pyramid form over her parchment. She locked gazes with him with such a look of education rewarded that Severus could not deny her the moment.

“Congratulations, my Apprentice,” he chuckled.

Hermione took a deep breath and handed him back his writing quill. She placed both hands on each side of her parchment and the equations settled back down onto the parchment once more. She rolled it up and clutched it tightly, a smile beaming across her face.

Severus extended his fingers, pointing to the bowl of warm sealing wax he had on his desk. The bowl was charmed to keep the wax in a constant liquid state for the purposes of sealing parchments.

Hermione slumped her shoulders slightly.

Severus arched a brow in reply.

“I… don’t have my own crest, Professor,” she admitted softly.

Severus looked taken aback. “How… is it that you do not?” He thought back to how many parchments she had turned in and realized that she had always carefully tied her parchments with a cord, but had never sealed them in the traditional manner. His eyes fell on the parchment she had given him earlier and saw the delicate cord that she had used to bind it together.

“The crafter in Diagon Alley had a lot of orders from… wealthy pure-blood families. They said they would get to it, but it never came,” Hermione confessed. Her cheeks were flushed with shame. Even Ronald had his own sealing signet from his family. It was old, battered, and had the family crest rather than his own name, but he at least had one.

Severus’ eyes narrowed. He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around. Pulling out and old broken seal and a piece of hardwood, he held them out in his hand. “Take my hand, Apprentice,” he rumbled.

Tentatively, Hermione obeyed, placing her hand over his and covered up the broken pieces. Severus’ other hand clasped over her hand, sandwiching her hand and the pieces between his. His hands warmed with energy, and she felt a sense of peace wash over her. For a moment, it was like she was in her animagus form sprawled on a grassy knoll soaking up the sun.

Severus released her hand, pulling away.

Hermione looked down into her palm and saw a beautiful mahogany handle on a heavy metal seal. Curiously, she spooned some of the wax from Severus’ bowl onto her parchment and pressed the metal seal down into the cooling wax. There was a flash of magic as her magic and seal combined to seal the parchment. She pulled the seal away from the wax and gasped.

Nestled in the middle of the seal was an ornate “H.G.” but surrounding it was a gryphon, circling the initials as though it were chasing its own tail. It would pass all casual inspection as a very Gryffindor seal, but Hermione knew exactly what the effigy meant. “It’s beautiful, Master, thank you!”

Severus’ expression was impassive, but the corner of his lips quirked upward. “You are welcome,” he answered softly.

Hermione clutched the seal in her hand with emotion, a tear escaped her eye and trickled down the side of her nose. She placed the seal into her robe and pulled out the wrapped chocolate chip cookie Draco had shared with her earlier. She split it in half and handed it to Severus with an appeasing smile.

Severus looked at the cookie half curiously and slowly took it between his fingers. “Thank you,” he said. He took a bite slowly, as if attempting to memorize its every nuance of flavor.

Hermione took a larger bite from her half and smiled.

“Our time is up, Ms. Granger,” Severus said as he polished off the last of the cookie. He pointed his wand at the door, opening it to the outer hallway and possible prying eyes. “I am relieved that I am to be free of your insufferable company. Do you think you can find your way to the Gryffindor dormitories without getting yourself into more trouble?”

Hermione lifted her chin in reply. “I believe I can, Professor,” she said impetuously. “Unless the castle rearranged itself.”

“Good,” Severus grunted. “See that you do.”

Hermione grasped her books and walked out of the room with an affronted expression on her face.

:Goodnight, Hermione,: Severus whispered to her mind.

:Goodnight, Severus,: Hermione replied warmly, sending him a mental image of a warm hearth, a side table with a filled teacup, and comfortable chair by the fire.

Severus replied by sending her a picture of comfortable bed with Crookshanks curled up on the pillow waiting for her.

Hermione smiled, retreating down the hallway and out of the dungeon.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid introduces his class to hippogriffs. Hippogriffs and gryphons are not besties.  
> Hermione's agreement with Snape is revealed.

**Chapter 3: Confrontation, Keep in Rhythm**

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid exclaimed with happiness. He waved his hand towards the paddock. “Beau’iful, aren’ ‘hey?”

Hermione held back from Harry and Ron, hoping that the rest of the students mistook her tentativeness for fear rather than her real reason for being nervous. Gryphons were natural predators for hippogriffs. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a hippogriff stampede.

“So,” Hagrid said as he rubbed his hands together, “if yeh wan’ter come a bit nearer…”

Harry and Ron were the only ones that approached the paddock fence with any semblance of desire. Hermione shifted her eyes and grit her teeth, approaching the fence with a caution she had honed into an art form. Being an animagus was odd enough amongst the the Wizarding world. Being a gryphon was not something you could hide in small spaces.

Most of the students were nervously distracted watching as Harry was being instructed by Hagrid on how to approach a hippogriff. The large hippogriff was eyeing Harry with something akin to haughtiness. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that the hippogriff literally believed himself to be better than Harry. Who was really going to argue with that much wing, beak, and talons.

Hermione kept her breathing calm, silently thankful that her altered scent was not all over Harry or Ron. She wasn’t sure if the scent alone would panic the great beasts, but the risk was there. It wasn’t like she had warning so she could have tested the reaction in advance. Bloody Hagrid. She loved the man, but damn if he didn’t get her into trouble as often as Harry and Ron.

While she was having a mental war with herself, Harry had bowed to the large hippogriff. The hippogriff, Buckbeak if she had heard the name correctly, had bowed back. Hagrid seemed to be really excited and was gesturing for Harry to mount up onto the hippogriff’s back and not to pull out his feathers. Wise, Hermione thought to herself, considering she preferred to keep her feathers to herself as well.

Crabbe and Goyle were moving up closer to glower at Harry and thankfully the rest of the class seemed to be happily distracted by Harry’s actions with Buckbeak.

Draco cast her a curious look, his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed her standing a bit further back than she normally would be amongst Harry and Ronald.

Hermione made a gesture with her hand, pointing to Buckbeak and making a large mouth with her hand, pantomiming the mouth eating the hippogriff.

Draco’s eyes widened and he looked from the hippogriffs to her with concern. He seemed to put two and two together, remembering the brief lesson about the difference between gryphons and hippogriffs. He nodded to her in understanding, turning back to blend back in with his Slytherin compatriots.

Harry was aloft astride the back of Buckbeak, being carried away in a short flight around the grove and back. When they landed, Harry looked both exhilarated and relieved that he had managed to touch down without either hurling or falling flat on his face. Hagrid cheered Harry on, helping him down off Buckbeaks back.

“Good work, Harry!” Hagrid belted out. Cheers rang out around Harry from everyone save the markedly Slytherin House. “Okay, now, who else wants a go?”

Having broken the proverbial ice, the rest of the class seemed to gain a few points of courage in the face of the hippogriffs. Hagrid undid the ties on each of the hippogriffs, allowing the students to bow, albeit nervously, to the great creatures.

Neville seemed to having some communication issues, backpeddling from his non-bowing hippogriff with a great amount of running in a backwards motion.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing around Buckbeak. Buckbeak had bowed to Draco, who was gently patting the hippogriff on the beak. He kept his face carefully schooled into arrogance as he did so, knowing he was being watched.

Ron was dragging Hermione up closer to a chestnut colored hippogriff. Hermione tilted her head up, testing the wind as she would have in her animagus form, thanking the gods that at that moment the wind was blowing her scent away from the hippogriffs.

Thankfully, Ron was taking the lead to bow to the chestnut colored hippogriff, so she would not be required to touch them just yet. That would be a great way to panic the herd by sticking her scent right up the creature’s nostrils.

Just as Ron had started to pat the hippogriff on the beak, the wind shifted, and Hermione closed her eyes in resignation. “Please, don’t panic,” she whispered to herself. “Please.”

The chestnut hippogriff stamped her rear legs nervously, her front talons dug into the dirt. Her head twitched, and Hermione new that if a hippogriff’s nostrils could flare, she would have been doing it. The nervousness spread throughout the herd. They seemed to recognize the scent as being something they should be afraid of, but their vision told them that they were surrounded in humans. It made them nervous, but not as panicked as they could be.

Buckbeak seemed to realize something before the others. He turned his head towards Hermione, focusing his bright orange eyes towards her accusingly.

Hermione quickly bowed, attempting to try diplomacy in the face of the changing situation.

Draco sensed that Buckbeak had narrowed down where the predatory scent was coming from the strongest and looked ready to storm off in her direction. Knowing Hermione, she would let herself be trampled before she exposed herself as an animagus, but he he didn’t blame her. The secret was too big to be exposed in front of the entire Care of Magical Creatures Class.

Draco unfastened his student robe a little, allowing his shirt and pants to be more exposed. The same pants he had worn the night before as he had leaned against Hermione’s gryphon body and clung to her back as she had flown him around Hogwarts.

“This is very easy,” Draco drawled in the most bored tone he could muster. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you’re not dangerous at all are you?” he said to Buckbeak. “Are you, you great ugly brute?”

Draco knew he was going to be in pain very soon after he said it. It was the only thing he could think of that would irritate the hippogriff enough to get him to focus on him and his borrowed gryphon scent.

Right on schedule, Buckbeak caught a good whiff of the scent on Malfoy’s clothes and let out a high-pitched scream, rearing up on his hind legs and slashing out with his talons.

Draco had enough sense to turn, but the hippogriff managed to claw him on the arm, catching his talons into his robes and flinging him to the ground.

Draco rolled with it, attempting to roll out from under the slashing front feet or the stamping back feet of the irate animal. “I’m dying!” Malfoy yelled as the class began to panic hysterically. “I’m dying,” he repeated, “look at me! It’s killed me!”

Draco knew he was bleeding. The pain was all too sharp, and the warmth spreading down his arm and through his fingers could be nothing else but his own blood.

He lay in the dirt, making as much fuss as he could to keep the focus on him, but he shot a look towards Hermione.

“Thank you,” she mouthed to him as she ran to open the gate for Hagrid. Hagrid scooped up Draco into his arms and hurried out the gate.

Hermione quickly closed the gate as Harry shouted orders to retie up the agitated hippogriffs. She placed her head on her hands as she made sure the gate was latched. She used the excuse of Draco being injured to follow the path back up towards Hogwarts. Ron and Harry hurried to catch up with her, chattering about what what a jerk Malfoy was. Even the hippogriff seemed to agree. Hermione put on her best placating smile, knowing that the reason Draco Malfoy had been attacked was to save her secret.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus Snape looked up from the book he was reading, sensing his apprentice’s approach long before her footsteps clued him in. Her distress rippled through their strangely strong mental bond, and he had long since given up trying to figure out when it had started or how it had formed. He had tried to blame it on some trick of potion fumes or exposure to the same potion at the same time in a fluke accident of Neville’s ineptitude, but when it never wore off and, in fact, grew stronger, there was little he could do save accept that it existed.

In a strange way, Snape had found himself relying on it in a way he could not trust in any other person or promise. People hurt him. People betrayed him, underestimated him, used him, and attempted to manipulate him both subtly and not so subtly.

Hermione, however, was not a “people”. She was filed away in his brain as an exception of a rule. She was, just in herself, exceptional. She had, from the moment he had taken her under wing, focused on his words as though they had held her universe together. She soaked in every nuance of what he did, mimicked his gestures over the cauldron, and unlike how she acted in his classes in front of onlookers, did not strive to bother the everliving piss out of him with her incessant hand-waving.

When he waved his hand to let her through the wards to his private chambers, the young witch rushed through the portal door with a look of conflict on her face. Her emotions simmered underneath as mask of neutrality she had managed to keep on her face as she had strode down the corridors of Hogwarts. She let the disillusionment she had cast upon herself as she had descended down into the dungeons and past the Slytherin Common Room fall from her frame like dropping a cloak from her shoulders. This too, he had taught her, to protect her from the prying eyes of his House, who would want nothing more than to bring pain and suffering to her already stressful world.

He stood to meet her, his impassive face did not change, but he held his arm open to her in silent permission given.

Hermione slammed into him, letting out a sob of distress. She was still young, and there were times when all she wanted was a warm non-judgmental hug and a shoulder to cry on. Perhaps being young had nothing to do with it.

Severus allowed his arm to wrap around her, pulling her into his robes as she wept into him, her hangs wringing the cloth of his robe and waistcoat as her face rubbed against the many buttons that ran down his finely tailored vest. At that moment, he knew all she wanted was comfort, and he, the master of unemotional bastard feng-shui, was the one she ran to. The irony was not lost on him.

He wondered, at least in his own head, that if he had found someone in which to have such place or person to run to when he was her age, if many of his misguided mistakes throughout his life would not been made. If that was so, would he still have been here, at this moment, able to bring comfort to this brilliantly talented young witch who never quite fit in even with her supposed fears?

Hermione hiccuped slightly, burying her face into his chest. Her breathing came in long gasps, but slowly seemed to even out. Her emotion was spent.

Severus placed his hand on her head and closed his eyes, remembering the time when he realized that there was more to Hermione Granger than an impertinent chit with irritating hand-raising and an disgusting amount of book knowledge.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The imposing figure of the dark wizard and Potion Master of Hogwarts was walking into the infirmary with a scowl on his face. His black robes hung upon his frame like the thick curtains of a muggle stage production. Yet, despite the apparent thickness of his robe, it whipped behind him like a billowing flag, defying gravity as his face defied emotion.

His obsidian black eyes focused on her as she lay in the hospital bed. She blushed under his scrutiny, but it was barely noticeable under the cover of the very nice coat of fur she had grown. Her cat ears pinned back flat against her head as her emotions betrayed her.

Her professor stared at her a moment longer before he pulled the privacy curtain around her bed and sat down in the nearby chair. His expression did not change, but Hermione saw something flicker across his eyes like a cloud over the sun. She had no idea how to read it, however, but she could, in her embarrassing condition, smell a tang about his scent.

“Boomslang skin,” Severus said softly. “Bicorn horn. Tell me, Ms. Granger, know-it-all that you are, what potion would require such ingredients together?”

Hermione perked one ear forward, but one remained flattened against her head. “Polyjuice, Sir,” she said with difficulty through her very feline mouth full of equally feline teeth and tongue. There was no use lying to the dark wizard at this point, not that she was very good at it to begin with. She was laying in the hospital bed as an anthropomorphic cat.

“It takes a full month of meticulous tending to craft a polyjuice potion, Ms. Granger. It is something that even the sixth years I teach have more problems crafting with four years more experience under their belt than you,” Severus said quietly. His voice rumbled like distant thunder, quiet from a distance with a ripple of power that could not be denied. “Judging by how much boomslang skin has mysteriously gone missing from my private stores, I’d say you made enough potion for at least three flasks. Seeing as they are not here with you, I would infer that the other two have been used successfully, yes?”

Hermione nodded, both of her ears flattened to the side in shame.

Severus met her gaze, his dark eyes locked with hers, and she felt as if he were evaluating her as they would weight a heart against the Feather of Ma’at in the Egyptian Underworld.

“I will offer you a deal, Ms. Granger,” Severus said softly. “I will make it only once. You may accept or decline, but we will not speak of this again if you choose the latter.”

Hermione nodded, one of her ears perked forward in curiosity. Her tail lashed beside her unbidden.

“I will take you as my Apprentice if you accept,” he said so quietly that had she not had cat ears, she was pretty sure she would not have heard him at all. “I will teach you all manner of potions as befits a Potions Apprentice that is pursuing Mastery. I will teach you the regulated way that will pass your abhorrently regulated O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and I will teach you the proper way to brew the potion that defies those methods. And since I know you know that something is brewing in the air in your future, I will teach you the skills you will need to survive, rather than the skills that will pad your resume, though perhaps some will overlap.”

Hermione perked her ears forward, her mouth opened slightly, showing her feline teeth.

Severus held his hand up for her to wait. “I will demand of you obedience. I will insist that you defer to my judgment. I need you to give me something you probably do not believe I deserve. Trust.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, her ears flicked back and forth and her tail puffed a little as she digested what he had said.

“If you agree, I will do my best, as your Master, to protect you from yourself and from the ill will of others. I will not be perfect, but I will try to be a better Master than I have been your Professor.”

Hermione’s ears shot forward and her tail went still.

“If you agree,” Severus continued, “our relationship must be kept secret. We will train in private, when I deem it to be safe. No one must know. Not even Potter and Weasley. Perhaps, especially Potter and Weasley.”

Hermione looked like she was going to say something, and Severus held up his hand again to stop her.

“No one, Miss Granger, can know. Not your friends, not your parents, not your other professors, and especially not Albus Dumbledore,” Severus explained. “I cannot explain further, but know there are reasons, and they are real reasons. It is… imperative that this covenant not be broken.”

Hermione bit her lip, which was a bit painful considering her condition. Her ears flattened against her head at her self inflicted pain.

“Go ahead and ask,” Severus said with a smirk.

“Does this mean you’ll still treat me horribly in class?” she asked. She said her words carefully, as her mouth attempted to wrap itself around the strange vocal chords.

“In all manners public, I must treat you as I have,” Severus admitted. “I cannot allow this to change.”

Hermione drooped slightly, ears flattening to the side and her tail drooped with them.

“It will not be easy for you, I fear,” Severus confessed, “but you will learn more than you ever thought you could.”

Hermione’s ears perked forward again. Knowledge and the pursuit of it was always the carrot that drove her forward. “And if I decline?”

Severus met her gaze impassively. “Then nothing will have changed.” He stood up from the chair, his robe hung around his shoulders like a shroud. “I will give you whatever time you need to decide, but once you do, the choice is made.” He turned to leave, reaching out his hand to move the curtain back to where it was.

“No need to wait,” Hermione sputtered, her voice warped by the muzzle she was forced to endure.

Severus turned back to her. “You need not rush the choice, Miss Granger,” Severus restated. “I ask only that once your choice is made that you tell me one way or the other.”

Hermione shook her head adamantly. “I know my decision.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed, figuring her refusal would be the only thing that would come so swiftly.

She met his gaze defiantly, lifting her chin up to meet his piercing look of appraisal. “I choose to apprentice with you, Professor Snape.”

The Potion Master stood perfectly still, but Hermione could sense the change in his scent even though his expression did not change. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small vial and held it out to her. “Drink this.”

Hermione took the small vial with her clawed hands, struggling slightly with the stopper, but succeeding after a few minutes of focused work. She sniffed the vial and wrinkled her nose. Remember his request for her trust, she chugged the liquid down. It tasted like a punch to the face.

She shook her head fuzzily.

“First rule of potions, Miss Granger,” Severus said softly. “Never drink something you aren’t perfectly aware of what it is.”

Hermione shook her head at him, fighting the effect. “You said to trust you. That was me… trusting… you.” Her speech became slurred, and she teetered. Severus was at her side in a moment, cradling her head on his hand as he guided her back against the pillow.

“Touché, my Apprentice,” Severus replied. “Sleep well. In the morning, you will be… less furry.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted closed as her ears wilted and her tail drooped to the floor. “Thank you, Master,” she murmured as sleep dragged her into oblivion.

Snape pulled the curtain back and disillusioned himself before walking out from behind it, exiting the hospital wing with eerily quiet footsteps.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus pulled the quilt up over the sleeping form of his Apprentice, who had taken it upon herself to fall into a deep and unshakable sleep upon his settee. Her tears exhausted, and her emotions spent, Hermione had done what any self-respecting exhausted and emotionally drained student would do… fall asleep. While he knew her choice in places to pass out was not the most proper of locations, he had to admit to himself that it was probably the safest and most highly overly warded room in Hogwarts. Even Albus confessed that he didn’t want to spend the energy and the hours trying to break through his wards just to pop in for whatever reason. Small favors there.

Resigned to the fact that he would have to wake early in order to wake her up early so she could sneak back into her dormitory in the morning, he walked into his bed chamber and closed the door, warding it so there weren’t any unexpected or unintentional surprises.

He had fully intended to at least change his clothes before falling asleep, but he ended up face first into a pillow, fully dressed, and completely unconscious shortly after entering his room. Best laid plans and all that…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I moved the hippogriff scene from where it would have been canon, so instead of happening at the very start of the fall term, it happened in the middle of it. In my head, it was an important scene to have, because it explains how Draco, who obviously knew his hippogryph manners before the event, would be “stupid” enough to piss one off. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


	4. Boggarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The class learns about boggarts.  
> Hermione contemplates smelling like a predator.  
> Hermione discovers a strange resident of the Dark Forest.

**Chapter 4: Boggarts**

Hermione woke shortly before dawn with a groggy grunt and a sense of disorientation. She half expected Crookshanks to be dancing on her kidneys, as per the normal early morning routine, but couldn’t quite figure out why that wasn’t the case.

When her nose buried into the pillow she was using, her nostrils flared, picking up the scent of… not her room. She bolted upright, rubbing her nose and her eyes.

“Good morning,” Severus’ rumbling voice greeted from the fireplace. He stood framed in the firelight with a cup of tea in his pale hand. His hair was more disheveled than usual, clumping together like tendrils of one of Pomfrey’s venomous tentaculas. His dark eyes met hers with amusement as he gestured to the second cup of tea sitting on the table in front of him.

She stood and shuffled over to the fire and picked up the cup of tea and nursed it to test the temperature, then downed it without further ado. Immediately the warmth made her feel better and more human instead of something resembling the undead.

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling up at him.

“Are you feeling… better?” his voice rumbled like a purr that reminded her of Crookshanks.

“Yes, thank you,” she said with a nod. “I’m sorry I… lost it last night. I had no idea that Hagrid was going to take us out to see hippogriffs yesterday. I’ve never been close to them after I learned to change to even test the water. Ron dragged me close to a chestnut mare, but the wind was blowing away, so my scent wasn’t bothering them.”

“The wind shifted,” Severus completed.

Hermione nodded. “And everything went pear shaped after that. Most of the herd couldn’t pin down where the scent was coming from. I looked human, after all. But… Buckbeak? Buckbeak,I think was his name; he scented me out. Draco distracted him. That’s why… That’s why he’s hurt. Because of me.”

Severus quirked a smile out of the corner of his mouth. “You needn’t worry about Draco,” he said. “He’s patched up just fine. He’s bemoaning otherwise for effect, but he sent word that he’ll be sore, but nothing is broken. Most of Slytherin is out for blood for Hagrid’s dismissal and Buckbeak to be put down, however.”

“Oh no! Hagrid….” Hermione’s face twisted.

“It is not your fault, Hermione,” Severus’ voice snapped her to attention. “Slytherin needs only a reason to focus on. Any reason. If it had not been this incident, it would have been something else, possible even more damning.”

Hermione slumped, but nodded.

He pulled a vial out from his robe. “Here, drink this. I’m hoping it will help you with your hippogriff problem. It might even help you with the thestrals as well, if that ever becomes a need.”

Hermione unstoppered the vial and sniffed it. Her eyebrow lifted up into her hair. “My Master says for me not to drink something I’m not positive what it does.”

“Wise man,” Severus replied dryly. “Drink it anyway.”

Hermione shot Severus a look that was both amused and tolerant. She quaffed it quickly in case it was foul tasting, but was pleasantly surprised that it was minty fresh.

“There is a touch of catnip in the brew. Crookshanks may love you more than usual, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Minerva finds you very appealing as a student,” Severus rumbled.

“What did you just give me, Master?” Hermione shot Severus a dubious look.

“Scent dampening potion,” he replied. “I used to make it regularly for a professor here that… lacked personal hygiene.”

Hermione sputtered.

“Yes, I realize that there are rumors abound that believe I am allergic to soap, but at least… I… do… shower. That horrible man did not.” The Potion Master shook his head.

Hermione grinned. “How long does it last?”

“A month per vial,” he replied. “Minerva and I used to have to take turns spiking the man’s coffee while the other distracted them with scintillating conversation.”

A grin spread across Hermione’s face. It was sad, in her mind, that no one ever got to hear the random stories Severus would tell about random things like spiking some poor guys coffee just so he wouldn’t stink up the Great Hall. Perhaps, if they knew, they wouldn’t be so hard on the Potion Master of Hogwarts. She knew, even now, that now was not the time for such truths to be exposed. Severus had to remain unequivocally an ill-tempered, Slytherin-favoring, git.

Severus was a spy, she knew, and part of her wondered how many people actually knew that about him. His safety depending on people thinking the worst of him. Her safety, on the other hand, depended on her appearing like she always had on the surface… an eager to please, book-smart, naive, emotionally passionate, know-it-all witch. In a way, she realized, they wore their masks for the same purpose, but it was okay. In the end, they had one person they knew they could trust.

Trust was such an odd thing. In the beginning, she had thought trust was something easy to obtain amongst friends. If someone was your friend, there had to be trust. She had come to realize, even in her shorter years of experience, that there was casual and almost obligatory trust and the kind of trust you staked your life on.

Somehow, Severus Snape had put his trust into a young witch barely into her teens. Equally baffling, perhaps, she had put her trust in a dark wizard with a past so mired in conflicting deeds that a person could get lost trying to figure out which side he was on. She knew, though. She was his Secret Keeper, and he was hers. She already had more responsibilities than most people a decade her senior, but, like her Master, few knew the real Hermione Granger now anymore than they knew the real Severus Snape or the real Draco Malfoy.

She smirked when she thought of Draco Malfoy. No one suspected him of all people to be the honorable sort. The very thought of him being friends with the likes of her would send the majority of Hogwarts into involuntary spasms of denial. It was such a perfect cover. People believe what they wish to believe.

“I’ve aged you beyond your years, my Apprentice,” Severus said softly as he put down his empty teacup. “You carry a burden of knowledge and responsibility that most your age could not withstand.”

Hermione lifted her chin up to regard her Master. “I regret nothing, Master.”

“Now that your tea is finished, I think it is time for you to use that little trinket to insure you are in bed at the proper time,” Severus said with a quirk of his lips.

Hermione looked weary. “I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping. Harry and Ron wanted to sneak out to see Hagrid after the incident and make sure he was okay.”

Severus cast his eyes upward. “Hagrid will be in great need of friends. I do not think I need to remind you to be careful if you do follow your miscreant friends.”

Hermione smiled. “Of course, my Master. I’ve been taught by the best.”

“Pft,” he said dismissively. “Stupid girl,” he huffed, but his dark eyes were warm and his voice without venom.

Hermione pulled out the time-turner from her robe and closed her eyes, thinking of how many turns she needed to return to the proper time. She opened her eyes and smiled at the Potion Master. “I’ll see Your Royal Snarkiness soon, my Master,” she said cheerfully.

“Get Thee from my sight, you unsufferable chit,” Severus replied, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

Hermione turned the dial on her time-turner and vanished, the echo of her bell-like laughter hung in the air.

There was a sadness in Severus’ eyes as he stared into the place where Hermione had disappeared. Horrible times were approaching, and by whatever God’s blessing he could obtain, he would see her prepared for it to the best of his ability. The Wizarding world believed that the hand of the Dark Lord had been severed forever, but Severus knew better. Voldemort would return. It was only a matter of when. In training her, she would, in turn, protect her friends. There was a good probability that he would not be there to protect her when her skills would be sorely tested. Until then, he could only help her prepare and be there for her in the present. He hoped it would be enough.

The son of James and Lily Potter would be tested in ways the boy could never dream of. While he was a strong-willed wizard as his father was before him, he was also headstrong and carried many of his late father’s less admirable traits. And judging by how often Harry relied on Hermione’s side-long help in potions class, he did not inherit his mother’s latent talent for potions work. And so it came back to Hermione. Hermione could be the friend Severus could not be. She could be by his side during the hard times to come. She could protect him in the front lines. Severus had no doubt that she, like her animagus form, would be swift, fearless, and merciless when she had to be. It would have to be enough.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione was having a dilemma. Professor McGonagall, Severus had often joked, sometimes had a weakness for catnip due to her animagus form. Severus had once admitted that he had to suppress random desires to chase waterfowl, random rodents of various sizes, and even other predators like foxes. Hermione’s dilemma involved hunger. She was really, really hungry, but she didn’t just want the normal, albeit tasty, Hogwarts fare. She wanted a bloody steak… or a really nice fresh fish.

The strength of the craving was slightly disturbing. She supposed that it was some odd combination of lion and eagle that was mixing together in her brain. The stronger her bond with her animagus self, the stranger the odd cravings became when she had them. Thankfully, they weren’t all the time, but it wasn’t like she could just excuse herself from her friends and say “oh, hey, I need to go hunt, I’ll be back in a few hours.” Most people would probably think she was going to hunt down her latest book acquisition. If they only knew the truth.

Sometimes she wished she could share her secret with Professor McGonagall. She had a feeling the old wily animagus would understand her better than most, but there would be too many questions. How did she become an animagus would be the first question. Who taught her would be the second, and why would Severus Snape teach her anything would be a short question after that. Hermione shook her head. For the most part, she was content with how things were, keeping her secrets close to her chest like a play of cards. It was just sometimes, just sometimes, she really wished one of her confidants had some estrogen.

Placing her hand on the hidden stone, she whispered “neutrality” and felt herself being yanked by her navel to the grassy knoll on the opposite side of the great Black Lake. The squid was splashing around on this morning and Hermione had to squelch the feeling of rising hunger within her. It would not do to go and attack the resident squid of Black Lake. The rags would be alive with gossip and scandal over that bit of news. Even if they didn’t realize it was an animagus, the hills would be alive with wizards and witches hoping to convince her to guard their treasure rooms or hoping to subjugate her for some sort of study on rare magical creatures.

Within seconds, she had shed her human form, falling on four mismatched feet as her wings flipped outward and stretched. She bowed down on her front legs, stretching from beak to tail tip, her tail quivering excitedly as she chased the tension out of her muscles.

Taking a deep breath, she unfurled her wings, taking to the air and soaring over the Forbidden Forest. Technically still forbidden to students without escort by faculty, she had to admit she had become quite the rule breaker in her time in Hogwarts. She was not, she had to admit, like George and Fred Weasley style in rule-breaking, but she was bending the rules or blatantly tromping over student rules five different ways to next Tuesday, and there really wasn’t any denying it.

There was a rustle and movement below her, and she saw a roe deer stumbling across the valley in front of her. It was limping horribly, and she saw that its back leg was festering from survival of an attack from some other predator it had escaped only to succumb to a more insidious hazard of infection.

Part of Hermione, perhaps the part of her that remained human, ached in pity for the poor animal, but she had become a master at compartmentalizing her emotions and thoughts. The animal would die, regardless. It could die painfully slow, or she could end its misery and take its sacrifice into herself to sustain her.

Her talons extended and she let out a fierce cry of predatory exaltation as she descended upon the stumbling roe deer. Her talons sank in deep as her hind legs raked down the deer’s belly even as her beak clamped the back of the deer’s neck with an audible snap. So quick was her attack, the deer went limp within moments, giving one jerk of movement upon her impact but nothing more.

Her sharp beak tore into the thick hide of the deer as she fed herself, cutting pieces off her breakfast with surgical precision. She gulped down chunk after chunk in true eagle style, her beak snapping shut like the clack of a crocodile’s jaws. Half of the deer was demolished before her hunger eased. Hermione regained more of her senses as the dominant rampaging hunger and craving eased.

It was then, she realized she was being watched. She flattened her feathers against her body, her beak parting as she glared into the edge of the forest. Her tail poofed out slightly as her rear lion legs dug into the ground and she reared up, stretching out her talons in challenge.

A large, darkly furred animal stepped partially out of the forest edge. Wiry black fur spiked out over a underfed, half-starved looking frame. Whatever dignity this animal have had, it carried itself as one who had missed more meals than it had ever had and had to fight for the meager scraps it had manged to gain.

He, she realized, as her nostrils flared. This emaciated canine was a he. He smelled of weariness and bitterness. While he did share some traits with the wild wolf population in the form of his muzzle, his legs were lanky and longer. His ears were a little too pointed, and his eyes were haunted. He took a step forward, his eyes were on the deer.

Hermione parted her beak, giving a low chattering call from deep in her throat.

The canine paused and licked his jowls hungrily. He whined softly, begging her for a share of what she had already taken her fill from. She had seen many a beg from a hungry animal, but the beseeching in his eyes was raw and desperate.

Hermione kept her gaze locked with the emaciated canine for a moment longer before she backed away from the carcass, flipping her tail up in a slight curl of neutrality.

Whether the animal knew gryphon body language or not, she could not tell, but perhaps there was something universal in hunger. The black dog descending upon the remains of the carcass, tearing off pieces of meat as fast as his teeth would allow. He gulped it down the moment he tore off the flesh, as if he was afraid the carcass would disappear if left untouched for longer than a few seconds.

His belly was distended within minutes, his hunger driving him to stuff as much as possible into his hungry stomach. Hermione clicked her beak, tilting her head in curiosity.

No longer standing with an empty stomach, the wild looking dog licked his jowls of blood and sat down on his rear and barked.

Hermione lifted her head, responding to a sense of time her brain saw fit to remind her that she had to be back for class. She looked back to the wayward canine that had shared her prey. She leapt up into the air, wings spread to flap her airborne. She caught a thermal at last and banked back towards Black Lake, leaving her good deed known only to the peculiar looking wild dog that stumbled across her and her recent kill.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Hogwarts’ Potion Master growled as the Trevor tadpole in his hand changed back into a fully grown toad. The smiles around him disappeared like the sun behind a cloud. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”

All the students filed out of the class as fast as humanly possibly in the wake of Snape’s obvious temper.

“Stay after a moment, Miss Granger,” Snape snapped. “And you can explain to me why you decided to help your pathetic excuse for a House-mate when I specifically told you not to.”

Hermione cast her eyes down and Harry and Ron as well as Neville gave her a look of pure sympathy. They escaped the room, closing the door behind them.

“You just had to help him, didn’t you?” Severus groused as he wiped his hand of the toad slime that had covered it.

Hermione flushed. “I couldn’t let you poison Trevor, Master. It’s like the only friend he has that doesn’t make fun of him.”

Severus gave her a long suffering look. “You realize how horrible that sounds, yes?”

Hermione cast her gaze upward. “Yes.”

Severus harrumphed. “Your next class is Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“Yes, Master,” Hermione answered.

“You’ve already time-turned Arithmancy and Charms?”

Hermione nodded.

Severus took in a deep breath. He pulled a vial out from his robe. “Here, take this invigoration potion. You don’t want to fall flat on your face in the middle of DADA.”

Hermione took the potion, unstoppered it, sniffed it, and quaffed it with a slight puckering of her face. “You purposely put anise in that one.”

Severus smirked. “You’ll thank me for it later.”

Hermione licked her lips and made a face.

Severus grunted. “Be careful in DADA, my Apprentice. Be a know-it-all, but do not demonstrate it with your wand. Students of your age group should not be throwing out full bodied patronus charms and riddikulus counter spells. Especially not without verbal components.”

Hermione pouted. “But, I wanted to practice!”

“Practice later with me, insolent girl,” he smirked. “Off with you.”

“Yes, my Master,” she answered him, gathering her books close to her chest.

“Tell Draco he can make up whatever excuse he wants to join you tonight,” Severus said as she turned to leave. “You can practice on each other while I attempt to get some grading done.”

Hermione gave him an appreciative look. She closed her eyes, summoning every tear-inducing scalding comment he had ever said against her. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, and she sniffled as moisture gathered in her nose. She schooled her face into a teary affronted expression to hide her warm smile. She rushed out the classroom door.

“And if I ever catch you helping Neville Longbottom again during class when I specifically tell you not to, Miss Granger, you will be peeling shrivelfigs until your fingernails fall off,” Severus snarled at her retreating form.

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione choked a reply as she hurried down the corridor.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione and Harry exchanged quick puzzled glances with each other as Professor Lupin walked into the classroom. He arrived fashionably late, but he wasn’t very fashionable by any stretch of the means. His clothing looked like it had been pulled out a resale shop in muggle London. His briefcase looked a bit battered, as if he had used it to beat off a bear on his way to class.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted politely, in a voice that did not command as much as it requested attention. His smile seemed genuine, but tired.

Hermione vaguely remembered seeing him looking rather emaciated the time she had seen him on the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year, so at least he had started to put a little meat on his bones. Hermione tilted her head, suddenly remembering the starving dog that had gorged himself on half of her breakfast kill earlier that morning. She lifted her head and closed her eyes, parting her mouth slightly as her lips pulled back from her teeth. She held the scents in her mouth as if to taste them. She narrowed her eyes. The scent was not the same, but there was something odd about Professor Lupin. There was a musk about him that was not particularly normal, even for male.

Hermione squelched her inner paranoia. She’d been molded into a finely tuned paranoid witch thanks to her training. Being a gryphon only exacerbated those instincts. Dumbledore obviously trusted the man, or he wouldn’t be teaching at Hogwarts.

Rudely, her brain reminded her that the previous DADA instructor had been a complete egotistical ham, and Dumbledore had “approved” of him too.

Nobody’s perfect, she yelled at herself. Not even Dumbledore.

The class was getting up to follow their professor down the hallway, and Hermione got up to follow the crowd. Lupin’s scent wafted down the hall towards her again, too distinctive to be any of the students, but she could not place what it was.

Peeves suddenly went flying off, yowling about something that had gone up his nose, and the crowd ahead of her giggled amongst themselves. Hermione realized she had no idea what they were so amused about, and cursed herself again for being too distracted with one thing to notice what was going on around her.

With some consternation, she realized that they were being led into the staffroom.

The staffroom, which seemed to be longer than it would seemed from the outside, was covered in wooden panels. There were chairs scattered about, none of them matching, and all of them were suprizingly empty… save one.

Professor Snape was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his arms draped over the low sides. He looked up as the class shuffled in with a dangerous glint to his eyes. His lips pursed into a flat line as one corner of his mouth curled up into an unattractive sneer.

:That’s very attractive, Master,: Hermione chuckled into his mind.

:Hush, my Apprentice,: he chided. :You could have warned me that he was dragging his gaggle of gawkers into the staffroom.:

:I didn’t realize he was taking us to the staffroom!: Hermione protested.

:Brightest witch of your age, I see,: he ribbed her mentally.

:I was… distracted,: she confessed.

:By?: he inquired.

:Professor Lupin,: she explained. :He smells… different.:

Severus gave her the equivalent of a mental eyebrow lift. :Do you always make a habit of sniffing your professors, my Apprentice?:

Hermione had to struggle not to turn her head and give Severus a glare that everyone could see. :There is something different about him. He has a musky scent I can’t place mixed in with what I would consider normal human scent.:

:Speak with me about it tonight, it looks like Lupin is getting read to start his lesson,: Severus said as he stood up from the armchair. “Leave the door open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness… whatever you are attempting to teach this lot.”

Snape sniffed and took long strides past the class, his black robes fluttered behind him in the typical intimidating manner that marked his passage. As he passed the doorway, he turned back to glare at Lupin. “I would be careful, Lupin. I see you have Neville Longbottom in your class. You may not wish to hoist upon him anything overly complicated… not unless Miss Granger is whispering her corrective instructions into his ear.”

Neville’s face turned a bright shade of read, and Harry shot an angry glare at the Potion Master in indignation for both Neville’s treatment and the insult to Hermione.

Professor Lupin both frowned and raised his eyebrows at the same time. “I was, actually, hoping that Neville would assist me with my next demonstration,” he said, “and I am sure he will perform wonderfully.”

Severus’ lip curled up into an even more pronounced expression of disgust, but he left the room with a flourish of black fabric and the telltale thud of the door closing.

Lupin pulled at his collar a little, obviously not immune to the aura of disagreeableness that Snape wore like a glove, “Well then… the reason I have brought you here today is that we had a boggart move in to our wardrobe the other night. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?”

Hermione lifted her hand in typical fashion.

Lupin nodded to her.

“It’s a shapeshifter,” she answered fluidly. “It will try to take on the shape of something that will scare you the most.”

Lupin seemed quite happy with the response. “Very good. I couldn’t have said it better.

Hermione began to tune out Lupin’s lecture as he explained many of the things she already knew. While she paid just enough attention to not stumble when called on, her mind attempted to remember where she had scented the peculiar musk that overlapped Professor Lupin’s personal scent.

It was different than scent of an animagus, at least, to her now heightened senses. Professor McGonagall smelled like the warmth of a cat, with an almost cinnamon-like scent that reminded her of fresh pancakes and Crookshanks. Severus, on the other hand, smelled like parchment and feathers, something that reminded her of Hedwig when she hung out with Harry. The scents were intermingled perfectly. Lupin’s was different. It was like he there was his scent and something else hanging on him like a cologne.

There was a scream as Ron was being chased down by a ludicrously huge spider. Ron pointed his wand and yelled “Riddikulus!” and the spider lost all its legs and rolled towards Lavender Brown, who was definitely not amused in the slightest judging by her shrieks and gesticulating arms.

The boggart changed targets and seemingly vanished. There was a silver and white orb floating in the hair in front of their professor. He shook his head at the orb and pointed his wand, “Riddikulus!”

The next moment Professor Snape was standing off against Neville, causing Hermione to startle slightly in disorientation. Physically, it was the Potion Master, but the sense of him was not present, nor was his scent. Realizing that no one else in the room would have known that, she watched as Neville seemed to find his bravery and pointed his wand and shouted, “Riddikulus!”

Snape was suddenly standing there dressed in a lacy dress and the ugliest vulture covered hat she had ever seen. As if that wasn’t enough insult to injury, he had an obnoxiously loud red colored handbag. She stifled a giggle. It was pretty awful.

The class burst into laughter, and the boggart could take it no more, vaporizing into a smoke and dissipating into nothingness.

“Excellent work, everyone!” Lupin congratulated the class.

Hermione looked around, and everyone seemed to be happy with their DADA instructor after this class. While she tended to agree, and even told Harry and Ron so, part of her still puzzled over the man’s conflicting scents.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“How’d you ditch D and Duh?” Hermione asked as Draco flopped into the armchair after their dueling practice.

Draco wiped his forehead with his hand and smirked. “I sent them off to dig up something on Lupin that wasn’t just insulting what he dresses like,” he confessed. “I had to send them off to do something that would get them out of my hair. Professor Lupin seems like an altogether decent sort, so it will keep them frustrated and occupied for a while.”

“Insulting what he dresses like?” Hermione smirked. “That’s all you could come up with?”

“Hey,” Draco said with a shrug. “I have to take what I can get. Do you know how hard it is to be a bastard without anything to bastardize with?”

“Poor puppy,” Hermione chuckled. “How’s your arm?”

“Don’t let Pansy’s rants and drama fool you. You’d think I was on my last legs and would never regain the use of my arm,” Draco said with a shake of his head. “I will admit to milking my condition at weasel’s expense, however.”

“I’m not sure who enjoyed that more, your uncle or you,” Hermione said dryly.

“I have no idea what you mean, Hermione,” Draco smirked.

“Mmmhmmm,” she grunted.

“Unfortunately, Father found out,” Draco sighed. “He’s up in arms now to get Buckbeak put down for the insult and the injury.”

“He go all the way to the Board, I presume?” Hermione said, gripping the bridge of her nose.

“Hnn,” Draco grunted. “You know my father. In for a penny and out for a pound. It’s not like I can tell him why I provoked a paranoid hippogriff. Not that he’d believe me even if I did.”

“I do appreciate the rescue, Draco,” Hermione said. “I am sorry you got pummeled, though.”

“Eh,” Draco said, rubbing his arm. “At least the pain potion Uncle Severus gave me is doing its job.”

Hermione frowned. “I hope I can figure out a way to save Buckbeak from execution. It wasn’t his fault I smell like a predator and no one else knows about it.”

Draco nodded grimly. “I hate to say this, considering I don’t trust Potter and the weasel to do anything on their own, but it’ll probably be up to you three to rescue the poor beast. It’s not like I can get away from Crabbe and Goyle long enough to execute a rescue plan. Provided you can even get close to the creature smelling like… well you.”

“Are you telling me I smell, Draco Malfoy?”

Draco laughed. “No, no. You know what I mean.”

Hermione shook her head, “Yeah, I know. I hope this potion I’m on helps me in that regard.”

Malfoy raised a brow in true Slytherin style.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m on Wizarding deodorant, apparently.”

Malfoy made a sound like he was spitting out a drink. “Okay then. I’m somewhat glad that I’m not sensitive to all those extraneous smells, to be honest. I’d have to smell Bullstrode and Parkinson’s horrible perfumes from across the Quidditch patch.”

Hermione snerked. “They do smell pretty awful, Draco. That sickly sweet floral scent. Lavender and Pavarti wear the most horrendous scents. You can rest assured, if you ever need any of them tracked down, it won’t be hard.”

Draco scratched his head with one hand. “Oi. What do I smell like. Curious minds want to know.”

Hermione gave Draco a look. “Seriously? You want me to sniff you?”

“Oh come on, you sniff everyone, don’t look at me like that. You know you can’t help it,” he chuckled at her. “I just want to know if… I smell like the arse end of a Quidditch pitch.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Come here then,” she sighed.

Draco leaned closer to her. Hermione leaned in to meet him, her nostrils flared a moment. Her mouth parted slightly and she inhaled, holding the scent as though tasting it. She pulled away after a moment, sniffing once sharply.

Draco looked at her. “Well?”

“You smell like the arse end of a Quidditch pitch and a boy,” Hermione said deadpan.

Draco set his shoulders and glared. “Come on, Hermione. Really.”

“You smell… male. There is an familiar odor in that, but you have this… it’s like freshly mown hay after a rain and bergamont actually,” she attempted to explain.

“So… I smell like a male that rolled in freshly mown hay after the rain and slammed into a bergamont plant or showered in earl grey tea?” Draco asked with a lifted brow.

Hermione slumped. “I’m sorry, I’m horrible with descriptions.”

“No, actually,” Draco replied. “I can live with that.” He grinned at her.

“I need a goblet from the far cabinet, my Apprentice,” Severus called from across the laboratory.

“Yes, Master,” she said immediately, leaping up to fetch a drinking goblet from the cabinet for him. She stood on her tiptoes to grasp the goblet from the top shelf. With a huff of air, she closed the cabinet and rushed over to where Severus was stirring a cauldron agonizingly slow. She held out the goblet steadily.

He removed the stirring spoon as the color in the cauldron turned color into a rich gold an then into a strange neutral gray-blue. A faint blue smoke rose from the cauldron. Severus dipped in a ladle and transferred the potion into the goblet. The potion continue to smoke in the goblet, the rivulets of wispy smoke rose from the surface with a strange blue hue.

Hermione’s nostrils flared as she smelled the scent from the potion in the goblet. “Aconite, Master?”

“Indeed,” he replied immediately. His pale fingers curled around the goblet and lifted it from her hands. “Thank you. Please put a stasis on this cauldron and push it back behind the storage panel.”

“Yes, Master,” she said with a nod.

“I must deliver this. Do not leave this room until I return, the both of you,” Severus ordered.

“Yes, Uncle,” Draco replied.

“Yes, Master,” Hermione said simultaneously.

The Potion Master exited the room with a flurry of black fabric, closing and warding the door behind him.

Hermione waved a stasis spell over the cauldron and guided the cauldron back into the storage cubby, closing the sliding panel to protect it from accidental contamination.

“Do you realize,” Draco said as Hermione flopped back down in the chair across from him, “that you never question what he asks you to do anymore?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione made a face. “I ask him questions all the time.”

“No, I mean…” Draco seemed to gain a far-away look. “I’ve seen you question your other professors all the time. Your mind is always working on the why and the how. If something doesn’t make sense, you are the first one up waving your hand to ask why before you do something. But you never question my Uncle when he tells you to do something. Not here, I mean. In class, you’re obnoxious.” Draco moved his feet as Hermione flung out her foot to kick him on the shins.

“You’re such a prat,” Hermione huffed.

Draco grinned. “You ever wonder what Potter and the weasel would do if they found out about… any of this?”

“All the time,” Hermione admitted. “They’re supposed to be my best friends and all, but there is so much I cannot tell them.”

“Ffft,” Draco scoffed. “I see how it is.”

Hermione leveled him a look. “That I can hang out with in public without causing a war.”

Draco laughed. “Fair enough. Hey,” he said, changing the subject. “Help me with my arithmancy homework? The second equation she had us working on has me stumped. We’re stuck here until my Uncle comes back to bless us with our orders to get the heck out of his classroom.”

“Sure,” Hermione replied with a chuckle, pulling out her books from her bag. “Show me where you are going wrong.”

“Where to even start,” Draco mumbled as he pulled out his parchments. “You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I hope so,” Hermione replied as her finger traced through some of Draco’s equations. “Dad signed the permission form and sent it back with me, so I should be okay.”

“Potter and weasel going with you?”

“I don’t think Harry can go,” Hermione said with a frown. “The Dursleys are… not very nice people.”

“They didn’t sign his form out of spite?”

Hermione nodded.

“That’s pretty low,” Draco agreed. He dug into his robe pocket and plunked down some coins. “Here. Get him some sweets and stuff when you go. Just don’t tell him where you got the money, okay? He hates me about as much as he hates my Uncle.”

Hermione gave Draco a warm look. “I wish I could tell him he doesn’t have as many enemies as he thinks he does. Well… tell him and have him believe me.”

“There’s the rub, isn’t it?” Draco replied.

“I think I found where you derailed, Draco,” Hermione said suddenly, pointing down to his parchment.

Draco leaned in over the parchment. “Awww, way up there?”

Hermione gave him her best don’t kill the messenger look.

Draco wilted and shook his head. “Okay, hand me that quill.”

Hermione handed him the nearby quill and smiled.

 


	5. Smuggled Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronald and Hermione bring Harry back some spoils from Hogsmeade.  
> Lupin doesn't show up for class, and Snape is covering for him.  
> Hermione learns about Patronuses.  
> Draco and Hermione come up with their own brand of sneaky.

Chapter 5: Smuggled Sweets

 

Harry Potter was sitting in the Griffindor Common Room staring into the fireplace in a justifiable brooding session when a giant shower of sweets came raining down upon his lap.

“There ya go,” sniggered Ron. “It was as much as we could all carry.”

Harry looked up with amazement, the horrid expression he was brooding with melted into something that was far more pleasing to the eye. A truce seemed to be called between Ron and Hermione, as she too dumped an armful of sweets into his arms. Mixed within was bright colored new scarf in Gryffindor colors and a pair of socks.

The look on Harry’s face made it clear that the gifts had been unexpected, and Hermione smiled genuinely, making a mental note to thank Draco for the contribution to the “smother Harry with loot from Hogsmeade” fund.

Harry’s face was still lit up like it was Christmas morning. “Thanks!” he finally gushed. “What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?”

Ron took over the retelling, much to Hermione’s amusement, but she didn’t mind. She was trying to figure out the best way to reveal the last thing she had smuggled back to Harry without tipping off Ron, who would have definitely wanted to know how in blazes she did it.

Harry was telling Ron that he had visited Lupin and had tea with him in his office when the dreaded Potions Master had come in with a delivery.

“He actually drank something Snape gave him?” Ron practically choked on his own tongue. “Is he nutters?”

Hermione absently checked her watch to conceal the twitch on her face. “We’d better go down. The feast will be starting soon…”

Ron, never one to let food to to waste, sprung up from the chairs and dashed out the portal, not even bothering with an as you please.

Hermione let out her breath and pulled out a small box from her robe and tapped it with her wand surreptitiously to enlarge it. “Here you go, Harry. One last thing from Hogsmeade.”

Harry took the rectangular box in his hands. He looked like he was going to shake it.

Hermione widened her eyes. “No, Harry! There is a sliding panel!”

Harry looked pretty sheepish. He slid the panel up on the box to reveal a large foaming mug of butterbeer. “Is this…?”

“Butterbeer, Harry! It should still be warm if the cold didn’t get to it,” she reasoned, not bothering to tell him that she’d slammed about two different types of stasis charms, a non-spill charm, and a custom one to make it so once he opened it, the only one who could see the mug of beer was Harry and herself. The last thing she wanted was Ron asking where the beer had come from. Flitwick had been extra proud of her extra work in charms class, and she silently thanked her professor for the extra tutoring.

Harry wasted no time at all guzzling down the butterbeer. His face was alight with the kind of joy that spoke of so many things he had never been allowed to have. Hogsmeade trips denial aside, there was so much her friend did not have. While Hermione had her own issues being a muggle born outcast in Hogwarts, Harry had a different sort of stigma. Stigmas that started with the lightning bolt on his forehead and ended with being the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Wow, Harry. Are you even going to have room for dinner?” Hermione asked with amazement.

“I’ll make room,” Harry beamed at her, holding out the empty mug. “Did you need to take the mug back?”

Hermione nodded, happy that her friend realized she had probably bent a few rules to get him that particular present. She took the mug and hid it away, shrinking it silently as it passed under her robe to leave Harry none the wiser.

Harry was too busy shoveling all the candy they had brought into the box she had smuggled the butterbeer in with. He seemed to appreciate the box as much as the candy, which made Hermione smile.

Harry tucked his box of sweets under his arm and dashed off to hide it in his dorm before he came back to join her. “Let’s go to dinner!” he said cheerfully, all thoughts of his missed trip to Hogsmeade gone for the moment at least.

Hermione laughed and the pair shuffled down to the Great Hall, which was, according to the hall buzz, decorated up neck in Halloween adornments.

-o-o-o—o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was her time as an anthropomorphic cat that had heightened her senses as a human or her strong bond to her animagus form. It was natural to connect her odd food cravings to her inner gryphon, but sometimes she wondered if the way she tasted scents was a remnant that had never truly been “cured” from her time as a cat. Thankfully, at least, she didn’t have any obviously visual indicators like a long tail or slitted irises, but she was pretty darn sure that normal people did not taste scents with their mouth. Animals did that. Well… animals and her, apparently. Trust in Hermione Granger to find some strange conglomeration of symptoms that could be mixed together and create… whatever the heck she was.

As they walked into down towards the Great Hall, Hermione’s eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Her lips parted as she scented the air automatically, rolling the air back to the rear of her mouth where the scent was easier to detect. The scent was familiar, but faint. Had it come in through the window from outside? The cold air from outside messed with her scent recognition, mixed with the strong scents of fallen leaves, incoming scents of the courtyard, and unfortunately the wafting odor of some of the livestock Hagrid was keeping near Hogwarts. Hermione made a half sneeze. Stupid wind. Why did it have to blow in from that direction anyway?

Harry was blabbering on about how great Professor Lupin was. Hermione nodded politely and half listened as she mentally reached out to her Master. :Master?: she said softly enough that if he were busy, she would be easy to ignore.

Severus’ mental presence was, unlike his facial expressions, warm, at least it was to her. It wasn’t like she had anyone to compare it to. Draco adamantly said he never wanted to touch his Uncles thoughts in the slightest. His Uncle’s strict mind was probably twenty times as harsh as his facial expressions, in his opinion, and he didn’t even have the same bias against his Uncle that the whole of Griffindor did.

:What troubles you?: his reply was lazy, almost bored. She gained the mental image of brightly colored Halloween decorations and far too many children having a glorious time. It was akin to torture for Severus Snape. While he was not as horrible a man as his facade declared, he was not an agreeable sort either. There was a distinct difference.

:I’m not sure, Master, but I scented something on the way to the Great Hall,: she explained, smiling at Harry as he continued to chatter on. :The outside scents, thought, are making it hard to pinpoint and recall.:

:Hagrid’s animals?: came his lazy reply.

:Yes, Master,: she affirmed.

:I will slip in confirmations of a good patrol then tonight during conversation after Minerva is done gesticulating over the Cornish game hens,: came his reply.

Hermione let out half a laugh before she caught it, causing Harry to give her a strange look. “Sorry, just thinking of Ron stuffing his face.”

Harry laughed in return, agreeing that Ron’s stomach was indeed bottomless.

They entered into the Great Hall where all of the loud colored decorations were confirmed and then some. Severus’ eyes flicked to her as they entered, his impassive face revealing nothing to outsiders.

:Be alert, Hermione,: Severus whispered. :If your senses are telling you something, I believe they will not steer you wrong.:

“I’ll tell you if I can ever figure out what I’m scenting,: Hermione said with a mental sigh.

Severus sent her a mental chuckle before he withdrew from the connection, leaving her alone with her own thoughts as the Gryffindor table chatter swallowed her up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Percy Weasley’s voice shouted for someone to fetch Professor Dumbledore as the trio was returning back towards the dormitories. Mad whisperings and gasps were trailing down the gathered Griffindors that muddled up the hallway.

“That’s odd,” Ron said. “Why are we all just standing around on the bloody staircase?”

Hermione shrugged, but she lifted her head over the crowd. The scent was back. Slightly stronger this time.

It was only when Dumbledore swept in like his own private typhoon that the crowd parted enough for the three of them to see that the Fat Lady’s portrait that guarded their entrance portal was slashed to pieces.

Professor McGonagall rushed up shortly after, followed by Professors Lupin and Snape, their robes fluttering behind them in their haste to attend.

Dumbledore was chattering orders to his Deputy Head, and she turned quickly, rushing off to find Mr. Filch.

Peeves swooped in from above somewhere, looking so terribly pleased with himself. Dumbledore spoke with him with a low voice, and much to everyone’s amazement, the poltergeist did not blow raspberries or fling anything towards the Headmaster.

None of them could hear what Dumbledore or Peeves were saying over the chatter in the hall until Peeves yelled as he fluttered away, “Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black!”

At that point, everything just became more confusing. The students were not being herded back towards the Great Hall, but it wasn’t just Gryffindor this time. All of the Houses were being shuffled in. Dumbledore said orders to the staff and the Head Boy and Girl as well as the prefects. The Headmaster waved his wand and all the tables moved and stacked to the side as a virtual blanket of large purple sleeping bags covered the Great Hall’s floor.

“Sleep well,” was Dumbledore’s final word as he and the other Professors hurried off to scour Hogwarts for the intruder.

-o-o-o-o—o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius Black and dementors were the talk of the school for the rest of the week. So many hypotheses, wild theories, and mindless speculation overlapped upon each other like a great swarm of angry Africanized honey bees. Every tale just became more and more swollen and crazy.

Hermione stood in front of the newly appointed portrait of Sir Codogan, who was challenging her to a duel of honor. Hermione pinched the bridge her nose yet again, utterly annoyed. The Fat Lady had her moments, mind you, but she never randomly changed the password more than once a day and then struggle to remember them due to a portrait drunken stupor. Apparently portraits could get drunk. That was a new tidbit of information she could have gone her entire life without knowing.

As Sir Codogan yelled at her to “Have at Thee!” for the third time, Hermione had enough, and she occluded herself, shoving all of her happier and tolerant expressions clear off her face and gave the portrait a merciless glare straight out of the Severus Snape Handbook of Properly Intimidating Expressions.

Sir Codogan seemed a little taken aback, as if the cute kitten had just metamorphosed into giant spider. He cleared his throat and took it upon himself to challenge some other poor sap that was attempting to enter the Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione rolled her eyes and spun, taking off down the hallway. Harry had been summoned to Professor McGonagall’s office, which could only mean that his safety was being brought into question, yet again. As usual there would be very little anyone could do about, but it seemed like every teacher just happened to be walking along corridors with him at one point or another. Even Percy Weasley, who normally tried to distance himself from his younger brother and his friends, was trailing him from place to place like he had a mission to carry out. Hermione privately snickered over the sight. He could be a little less obvious about it. Then again, she wasn’t exactly normal in her school skill set.

By the time she showed up to Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she noticed Harry had still not shown up. Ron grunted towards her with his typical finesse, causing her to roll her eyes. She sat down next to him.

It was actually Professor Snape that walked into the class instead of Professor Lupin, causing the class a bit of distress. Murmurs of inquiry spread through the class ranging from concern about Lupin’s health versus speculation if Snape was even capable of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts since he was the Potion Master after all. Hermione resisted the urge to slam her head against the desk at the conversations. Idiots.

Harry walked in about ten minutes after the class started, fulling expecting his excuse to Professor Lupin to be enough only to be thwarted by Snape’s intolerant docking of one point for every minute he was late and telling him to sit down.

When Harry did not sit down, as ordered, and instead demanded to know what had happened to Professor Lupin, Severus answered him and then docked more points and stated very evenly that if he had to ask him to sit down one more time he was start docking points starting at fifty. That finally lit a fire under Harry’s posterior, and he begrudgingly sat down beside Hermione.

“As I was saying before Potter interrupted,” Snape droned boredly. “ Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far.”

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing that she was going to get it straight to the face in front of the entire class yet again. She opened her eyes and waved her hand. “Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows,” she rushed out, “and we’re just about to start —”

On cue, Snape snapped, “Be quiet. I did not ask you for gratuitous information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s horrible state of organization.”

Hermione turned her head to the side, feeling the blood rush to her face. She held her breath a little to add to the effect.

:Breathe, my Apprentice,: Severus whispered to her softly. :You are supposed to look affronted, not pass out.:

Hermione struggled to keep her face properly affronted and breathe at the same time. It was harder work than she anticipated. Her Master was droning on about what they were going to discuss since all the rest seemed utterly too basic.

“Werewolves,” Snape finished his sentence.

Hermione took a deep breath. That was her cue yet again. “But, sir,” she lamented, making it look like she had no self control in the slightest, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start hinkypunks.”

Severus focused the look of pure malevolence he normally reserved for Neville Longbottom during potions class upon Hermione. “Miss Granger,” he said through a tightly reined voice. “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page three hundred and ninety four.” He glared at the entire class yet again. “All of you! Now!”

The rest of the class went on much in the same manner. Snape would ask a question. Hermione would be the only one that would either have the knowledge or the audacity to answer him. Points would be docked for her being insufferable, a know-it-all, or some combination in between.

At one point, however, Ron seemed to have enough and he spewed, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if yo don’t want to be told?”

:The puppy has teeth,: Severus commented dryly in her mind.

Hermione turned her face down into her open palm to avoid revealing the grin moving across her face.

“Detention, Weasley,” Snape purred in a voice that seemed be more like fine silk than gravel. He moved his face closer to Ronald Weasley’s, his dark eyes set upon him like threat of the dementors. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.” (p172 PoA)

The class, while one may have debated on the description of smoothly, went at least quietly towards the end. Notes were taken as Snape stalked up and down the aisles like a prowling Kneazle. Snape made disgusted comments as to their work in the class so far, making no effort to hide his disdain.

At last, the bell rang.

Snape gleefully assigned two rolls of parchment on the recognition and killing of werewolves and told Ronald to stay behind for his detention assignment.

:You’re not going to assign him bedpan scrubbing without magic, are you, Master?: Hermione said to him as she shuffled out with Harry and the rest of the class.

Harry was ranting the moment the were out of earshot.

:Who would do such a thing?: came Severus’ very dry reply. There was amusement in his voice. The suffering of Ronald Weasley was, much Hermione’s chagrin, something enjoyed by far more people in Hogwarts than Severus Snape. Severus simply had it honed into a very practiced art.

Ron came storming out of the classroom spewing venom about Professor Snape with such colorful vernacular that Hermione gasped at him. “Ron!” she exclaimed.

Ron continued his tirade, not caring who heard him.

“Ms. Granger,” Severus’ voice broke the tirade instantly. “A moment of your time to discuss… your inability to keep your mouth shut.”

Ron and Harry’s eyes went wide with sympathy as Hermione slumped her shoulders in a grand manner. “Yes, sir,” she answered meekly, turning to shuffle back into the classroom.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Are you… doing well?” Severus’ voice was a low rumble.

Hermione nodded. “The school is abuzz with talk of Sirius Black. Harry thinks Sirius is coming for him.”

“Yet… you disagree?” Severus waved his wand to insure they were not interrupted nor eavesdropped upon.

“Master, if we wanted someone dead and had an obscenely long time to think about it, would we be so ineffectual?” Hermione posed her question in a tone of speculation.

“I think… we are not the ones we should compare the normality of mind and assassination plans to,” Severus countered. “But… no, we would not.”

Hermione inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Honestly, if we wanted Harry dead, would we slash up a portrait and then… leave? There are a hundred places we’ve been in the past month that were completely unguarded, and there has been no sign of trouble. When we do get a sign of trouble, it is more like terrorism than focus, and the act in itself did not focus on Harry at all!”

Severus tilted his head to the side, blinking slowly. “You may be correct, however, this does not give us an excuse not to remain… vigilant.” Severus twitched his lip as he spoke as if what he said reminded him of something utterly distasteful.

Hermione gave him an odd look.

“How is your patronus?” Severus asked.

“I’m having trouble focusing on one particularly happy memory, Master,” she confessed. “I have quite a few I think are happy enough, but—”

“None that form the full-bodied patronus?” Snape finished.

“No,” Hermione replied, disheartened. “I’ve tried birthdays, my parents, the first time I saw Crookshanks, the day I became friends with Harry and Ron, the day Draco and I pranked Crabbe and Doyle…”

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “Comical, but not necessarily happy enough, I fear.”

Hermione wilted. “What is your happiest memory, Master?”

Severus turned his head to the side, his eyes flicking to the side and back to her. “An old childhood friend I grew up with. She was… a bright spot in a dreary world at a time I sorely needed it.”

Hermione sensed a flash of pain from her Master’s mind and realized that whoever it had been was no longer alive.

:I am sorry, Master, please excuse my curiosity,: Hermione whispered, bowing her head in respect.

Severus shook his head, placing his hand on her shoulder.:It was innocently asked, my Apprentice.: Hermione lifted her head and met his obsidian eyes. There was no anger there, and the warmth between them did not falter. He placed his hand upon her head.

Hermione’s eyes closed as a pervasive calm flowed through her, and underneath the calm was a warmth that grew into something more. A memory came to her, and a broad grin spread across her face.

She stood and spun, “Expecto patronum!” An otter sprung forth from her wand and swam through the air with playful leaps, twirled around Severus and floated before him before dissipating.

Severus’ face was impassive, but his eyes were warm with approval. “Remember your other less successful memories in case you must… fake learning your patronus again.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Master.” She sensed a wave of curiosity and smiled at the Potion Master. “It was our first flight together.”

Snape’s lip quirked upward. “You can use your patronus to send messages, and if you are especially determined, you can use your patronus like a guided spell. Something useful for… dementors, for example.”

“Messages?” Hermione perked up.

“Come,” Snape directed. “Stand by me.”

Hermione rushed over to his side as Severus pulled out his wand. She mimicked his stature, the position of his wand, and even the severity of his expression.

“Think clearly on the message you wish to send,” he guided. “Then think clearly on who you wish it to go to. The more clear the image in your mind of the person, the faster your patronus will go. Ready?”

“Ready, Master,” she replied.

“Go.”

“Expecto patronum!” Hermione said clearly, waving her wand in exact time with Severus as she clearly thought of the message she wished to send and the face of whom she wished it to go to.

Her otter leapt from her wand immediately as a silvery doe leapt from from Snapes. The two patroni crossed in front of them and then doubled back. The otter floated to a halt in front of Snape.

“Good evening, Professor,” the otter said in Hermione’s voice.

“You will be late to dinner, Ms. Granger,” Severus’ voice came from the silvery doe.

Hermione cast her eyes down, stifling a laugh.

Both patroni dissipated with a poof of vapor.

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances.

“Acceptable,” Severus said flatly.

Both of their heads shot up as footsteps were coming down the hallway. Severus tucked his wand away, and Hermione leapt into the nearby desk chair. She tucked her wand into her robe as Severus unwarded the classroom door with a wave of his wand and he pulled his occlumency shields over himself with the mental equivalent of a slam. Hermione echoed his actions, pulling her own shields over her mind and filling her surface thoughts with indignant and abashed thoughts.

“You are a disgrace, Ms. Granger,” Severus snarled at her. “Never have I seen such a blatant disregard for protocol than I find in you. Must you be such an insufferable know-it-all?”

“Ah, Severus,” Dumbledore said as he poked his head around the corner. “I did not expect to see you still in the classroom this late.”

“Yes,” Severus answered through gritted teeth. “I was… having a discussion with Ms. Granger on her inappropriate behavior in today’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore said, his eyes flicking towards where Hermione had her head bowed shamefully as she stared at her hands on her desk.

“I haven’t thanked you for taking over Professor Lupin’s class while he was feeling under the weather, Severus. The dinner hour is approaching. I’m sure you don’t wish to miss it,” Dumbledore said neutrally. “I hear there will be cherry tarts for dessert.”

“Yes…” Severus replied softly. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

“Allow me to help you, Severus, as I’m sure you want to catch those cherry tarts before they all disappear,” Dumbledore said with a helpful smile. “I’m sure Ms. Granger is suitably reprimanded and repentant for her transgressions, aren’t you, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione gave a small sniff. “Yes, Professor.”

“Good, good,” Dumbledore said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come with me, my dear.”

“Yes, professor,” Hermione said, pulling her books close to her and allowing herself to be herded out the door in front of Dumbledore.

:Do not falter in your shields, my Apprentice,: Severus warned her softly. :Be wary.:

:Yes, my Master,: Hermione replied, putting on her best face for the Headmaster.

Much to Hermione’s relief, all the Headmaster did was escort her to the Great Hall for dinner. He smiled at her. “Don’t judge Professor Snape too harshly, my dear,” he said amiably. “His methods are harsh, but he is very talented. You will learn much from him if you can… overlook some of his more prickly aspects.”

“I’m fairly certain he hates me, sir,” Hermione replied with a half smile.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m sure most of the school thinks the same, Miss Granger, but he is a very complicated man.” The Headmaster looked up as if something was calling him then turned back to her. “Do not take his insults to heart.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll try, Professor.”

The Headmaster seemed satisfied by her answer. “Your friends are waiting for you, I think. Go along now,” he said with a smile.

Hermione stifled her normal conditioned response to bow that she usually used with Severus and gave the Headmaster a warm smile instead. “Thank you, sir,” she dashed towards the Gryffindor tables.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Quidditch game the next week was, unfortunately, a disaster. As much of a disaster as any game where dementors were involved. There was screaming everywhere, and Harry took a tumble from his broom from about fifty feet.

The moment the dementors swarmed on Harry, Hermione was diving behind the seating stands and sent her patronus zinging towards the cluster of dementors, taking one of them out of the running by driving it off the school grounds. She sensed Severus acting in tandem with her as another of the dementors went flying off, but it was too late for Harry who had started to fall.

Dumbledore was flinging a series of non-corporeal patronus waves towards the clustered dementors, thankfully too focused on Harry to notice the few Severus and Hermione had picked off.

The Headmaster was furious, flinging spells every which way, but one of them, thankfully, guided Harry to a less fatal crash landing. Harry was put on a stretcher and carried off to the Hospital ward yet again, for the untold count, but he was alive.

When Hermione finally scraped herself off the seat stands, she was feeling a bit exhausted. The dementors were supposed to be after Sirius Black, not Harry, yet it seemed like in their crazy rush to find the escapee, they really didn’t care who they sucked the happiness out of. About the only thing Hermione could think of at that point, was a thousand and one silent thank yous to Severus for insisting that she practice her patronus.

Harry was, as to be expected, depressed about the loss in Quidditch, but he was even more depressed about the loss of his broom. To top it all off, it was upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, and Harry was, again, without a signed permission form.

Things were just getting more and more depressing for Harry Potter, and Hermione couldn’t quite figure out a way to tip things back into his favor.

Severus managed to sneak both Draco and Hermione out to the hippogriff paddocks to test if the deodorant was effective against her animagus mixed scent, and after a bit of trepidation on Hermione’s part, the two of them worked well with the remaining hippogriffs, even to the point where they took a few short rides and back under Severus’ watchful eye. Buckbeak, unfortunately, was tethered near Hagrid’s shack, which made making up to the hippogriff impossible without being seen.

Severus had them drill together in a valley quite a few miles out from Hogwarts. Mounting, dismounting, wand work from astride gryphon-back, and all sorts of random team-building exercises. By the time it was the hour for them to return back to Hogwarts lest they be missed, Draco had mastered the running mount and landing dismount so automatically that he was pretty sure he could do it half-asleep and intoxicated.

Draco, as if realizing that screaming what he wanted into the air in mid-flight was probably not the most practical or wise tactical maneuver, started making up hand signals and more subtle signals from the feel of his seat movements on her back. Severus seemed pleased by the development as he shooed them back towards Hogwarts, warning them be sure not to be seen together coming in.

The hand-signals was almost a game between them. Draco was used to some signals from his Quidditch gestures to team-mates, but the game had become how to make them as subtle as possible and still be understood. Signals started off basic. Quiet, lay low, listen, movement, to me, away, fly, land, watch my back, careful, and assist me were the first things they cemented down. More subtle conversation had some comical results, but they managed to come up with “I’m hungry,” “Ditch the friends,” “meet me later,” “be careful,” and tack on place words like “dungeon,” “library,” “Potions classroom,” and “grassy knoll.”

There were a few miscommunication where Draco accidentally signaled something like “I’m hungry, meet me on the roof with Severus,” to which Hermione signalled back “I can fly, how are you getting there?”

Hermione once signalled, “Quiet, my nose is running backwards.”

Draco had leaned back at his seat in the Great Hall and answered, “Might want to get that checked out.”

Hermione blushed so hard the color of her cheeks matched Ron’s hair, which caused both Harry and Ron to ask her why she was upset.

“Just angry that Harry can’t come with us this weekend,” Hermione rescued her situation with diversion.

The two boys grunted that it really was unfair and went back to discussion Quidditch, much to Hermione’s relief.

Hermione signed “Kneazles. On your face. Incoming.”

Draco yawned from his seat as he leaned in to whisper something to Crabbe and Goyle and signed back to her, “Flea collar. Have one. For you.”

“Prat,” Hermione signed, slamming their letter for “P” against her forehead in a manner that looked like she was thinking really hard.

:Watching you two brings all new amusement to my meal time boredom,: Severus’ mind voice broke into their signing conversation.

Hermione bowed her head in Severus’ direction. :I’m happy to oblige, my Master,: she replied cheerfully.

Severus’ mental touch expressed the amusement that his face could not. The antics of his godson and his Apprentice brought him a little lightheartedness to a very otherwise dreary life.

Suddenly, when both Draco and Hermione cast their look up to the High Table, Severus signaled, “Dungeon. Tonight. Meet up. Find excuse. Ditch the morons.”

Draco exchanged glances with Hermione. Severus had not only been paying attention to them as they created their secret language, he’d clued in on it well enough to eavesdrop and communicate.

:Busted, my Apprentice,: Severus chuckled into her head.

Hermione turned her gaze towards Ron who was spewing venom about something Malfoy had done. :I bow to your superior observational skills, my Master.:

“As you command,” Draco and Hermione signaled their surrender from their House tables, ceasing the conversation to devour the food in front of them.

“Victory,” came Severus’ silent reply as he rubbed his jaw with the letter “V.”

Victory indeed. Salazar Slytherin would have been proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I figured I had to give poor Draco a way to communicate with Hermione since the poor guy isn’t gifted with a mind to mind bond. This was my way of solving that. I think I amused myself too much writing it too, because I was giggling to myself as I wrote it. It’s either that, or I’m really sleep deprived… possibly both. Hrm.


	6. Starving To Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black is starving to death.  
> Hermione recalls what brought she and Draco together as allies.

Chapter 6 : Starving to Meet You

Sirius Black was in trouble again. Well… more trouble. Dementors aside, being an escaped convict, well that was given, being wrongly accused of murdering his best friend, sure all of the above was trouble, but this sort of trouble would put a direct and undignified end to a tale of stubborn refusal to die. Starvation.

The last rat he'd torn to pieces and eaten with both desperation and a touch of imagining it was Wormtail's body between his teeth was long gone. The last full meal he remembered having was gorging on a patrolling gryphon's kill. He had smelled the wounded doe and had been tracking it when the aerial flurry of beak, wings, and claws descended upon his perspective meal. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, the ferocious creature had deigned to yield the uneaten half of her kill instead of taking out his trespass into her obvious territory. A real gryphon. What a sight to behold. What James and Lily would have given to see one. How he missed them.

His godson was holed up deep in the bowels of Hogwarts. Sneaking into Hogwarts as a dog had been so easy, but the damnable portrait had denied him his due. His temper, not really wonderful even back when he wasn't starved and, if he did have the right to self-diagnose, a bit of psychosis thanks to the dementors, did not allow that situation to go quietly. Realizing he'd just stirred up the hornet's nest with that impulsively temperamental move, he had fled out the hidden corridors. Wormtail would have to wait. Now the insufferable rat was aware he was out and hunting for him. He'd be buried somewhere in the belongings of his godson's friend's belongings. Weasley, his mind reminded him. Roland was it? Randle? Bah. His memory of the present was hard to hold on to. His memory of the past refused to give him a moment's reprieve.

The present, however, was a gut-twisting, all-encompassing hunger that told him if he didn't find something to stuff into his mouth soon, his body would start eating itself. He didn't have much body left to be eaten by anything, including his own self, so that would not end well.

The Dark Forest, thankfully, had provided a wonderful hiding place for himself. He was mindful of the centaurs, and skirted around the thestrals, but was otherwise left alone.

A clarion eagle cry pierced the air, causing him to perk his ears up and flatten himself to the ground simultaneously. His eyes searched the clearing.

A buck went flushing out not even a few feet in front of him, followed by some of its herd, all of them scattering in various direction. An eagle would not flush deer out from hiding in a panic. His eyes scanned the skies, his nose working in tandem.

He had just spotted the limping member of the herd when a blur of sienna slammed into the deer, talons outstretched, beak snapping, and rear legs slicing the soft underbelly in surgical precision. It was something both beautiful and disturbing to behold.

Sirius flattened against the ground as a boy leapt off the back of the gryphon only moments before her impact with the unfortunate deer. He gave a loud whoop and a grunt as he landed, somehow managing to touch down with both feet and not end up flat on his face or back.

The gryphon, however, was ignoring him, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. She, and he had no doubt at all that this gryphon was a she, tore into the carcass with obvious hunger. She was not, he knew, starving. Her place on the food chain was undoubtedly on top, and her ability to prove it, lay in front of her.

The boy that accompanied this fine specimen of predatory magnificence ran a hand through his blond hair and let out a loud huff of air. He pulled out something from his robes… student robes… and knelt beside the feeding gryphon.

Must to Sirius' amazement, he knelt beside her, scraping the velvet off the antlers with a small knife into a collection vial. The boy tucked the vial away and then lifted each of the legs and scowled at them individually. One of them finally seemed like the one he was looking for, and he held it suspended, his off hand reached over and tugged the gryphon by the feathered "ear."

Gryphons were rare enough. Trained ones were something coveted by any wizard or witch worth their salt if they had anything they wanted guarded. It was actually easier for Gingott's to obtain a dragon over a gryphon. A dragon could be trained. A gryphon had to respect you first and then want to.

The gryphon turned her head to the side, seemed to be sizing up the leg the boy was holding up, and then, very quickly snapped her beak down upon it with a loud crack, severing it. The boy ended up with it in his lap as he fell backwards.

"Merlin, Ari," the boy huffed as he wrapped the severed deer leg in the waterproof fabric and tied it closed with cord. "Give a guy some warning before you practically take off my bloody arm!"

The gryphon was still chomping down her meal as her front talon shot out and pinned the boy to the ground.

The boy, undaunted, wriggled underneath, his hands reaching up and… tickled the gryphon's underbelly and leg.

The gryphon gave a series of calls of eagle-like indignation, snapping her beak loudly in the air, but ever snap was either a horrible miss for his head, or carefully calculated to miss. She let him up, slapping the boy upside the head with her tail multiple times.

The blond haired boy laughed, grabbing the gryphon's tail and petting it down its length and released. Soon after one wing shot out and gave him feathers to the face, and he sputtered, using the wrapped bundle to smack her wing back.

Sirius chewed on this revelation with great difficulty. Somehow, a young boy, barely into his teens, had gained the respect of a gryphon. He was undoubtedly a student. He recognized the uniform of Hogwarts easily enough. From what he could tell, the boy was markedly Slytherin as well. Slytherin did not befriend, they subjugated. Everything from his time at Hogwarts screamed at him that this was a cardinal rule, yet here, in front of him, the rule was being broken.

"Ugh, how can you eat that?" the boy complained. "It's not even cooked."

The gryphon tilted her head and offered him up a piece she had ripped off the carcass.

"Eugh, no," the boy complained, shoving her head to the side. "All you." He looked relieved with she made it disappear with a gulp.

The gryphon, Ari if his ears had not failed him, had finally had her fill, and again the half-eaten carcass called to Sirius in a way the ambrosia of the gods could not have been stronger. His stomach growled loudly.

Ari was at attention, and she drove her body against the boy, wings flared and beak parted as her talons clenched. The boy had his wand out fearlessly, showing far more bravado than one typically would in the face of something out of the Dark Forest.

Ari glared into the darkness of the forest as the boy leapt upon her back, awkwardly clamping the deer leg bundle between his legs. Once his hand was free however, their body language changed. He melded into the gryphon's back and held his wand poised in the direction of what he couldn't see, but his companion warned him about.

The gryphon took the air in a leap, leaving the ground in a flurry of wing beats before her wings caught a thermal that shot her high and fast into the fast currents above.

The now unguarded carcass drew Sirius out of the shadows of his hiding place. He quickly dashed out, struggling to drag the spoils back into the safety of the Dark Forest. He tore into it with abandon, filling his empty stomach with gratitude for his unwitting savior.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Flashback.

Hermione had expected the Potion Master to return late in the evening, as per the usual, but he had left her a note in cypher that he was on an errand for "the old man" and would return later than usual. She was to continue her potion work until he returned, and he expected them all of his assignments to be done by then. Hermione rolled her eyes as she remembered. Slave-driver.

Snape had changed the wards around his classroom, office, quarters to permit her entry upon need after she had accepted his apprenticeship, so sitting attended or alone in the potions laboratory classroom was nothing overly new to her anymore.

She was just finished bottling up a liquefied bezoar, a handful of various healing potions of random types, and burn paste when her professor entered the classroom, braced himself the desk, and slid to the ground in an undignified heap.

"Master!" Hermione gasped, rushing to his side. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey!"

"No," Snape groaned. "Tell no one."

"But, Master…" Hermione pleaded. "You're… you're bleeding."

"Stupid girl," Snape hissed, holding his arm. "Bandages."

In her haste to fetch the bandages and some of the potions she just made, she neglected to see the door was still open from where Severus had staggered in. As she gathered the items she required and hurried back to him, Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, jaw open and eyes wide.

"What are you…" Draco sputtered. "What the bloody hell are you doing to my godfather!"

Hermione's head shot up and her face was conflicted. He'd already seen her with Severus, there was nothing she could do about that now, but the question remained how much worse it would get and how fast.

"Help me, please," Hermione pleaded. "He fell."

Malfoy's face went from outrage to puzzlement to concern in a blink of an eye.

"Help me get him to his quarters," Hermione said, pulling the satchel of potions and bandages over her shoulder.

Draco seemed to have a moment more of conflict about following her orders for any reason until Snape's voice broke the silence with a harsh wheeze. "Idiot boy, do what she says."

Draco flinched and then struggled to assist Hermione in very unceremoniously propping up and dragging Snape down the corridor to his private quarters in the dead of night.

When they reached the portrait that guarded his quarters, Hermione placed her hand on the portraits surface and traced an intricate detail and muttered a list of things in seemingly just as random order.

The portrait swung open.

Draco didn't have much time to gape as they dragged his godfather the rest of the way into his quarters into a heap in the middle of a floor carpet.

Hermione was pulling the robe off Severus and supporting his head with it. She peeled off his upper waistcoat, cursing slightly as her fingers struggled with the buttons. Draco helped prop up his godfather awkwardly, uncomfortable with the fact that his fellow student was disrobing his godfather and her professor.

Hermione grabbed a basin from the nearby table and tapped her wand on the side, muttering "aquamenti." Water shot out of her wand tip, filling the basin. If that hadn't been impressive enough to Draco, she cast her hand over the basin and it was immediately steaming. She dunked a cloth into basin, wrung it out, and began to clean Severus' bleeding arm. "Here, please help him drink this." She uncorked the bottle, sniffed it, and passed it to him.

Draco fumbled to put the potion to his godfather's lips, aiding him to keep his head up long enough to sip the potion.

Hermione poured one of the other potions onto some bandages and began to wrap his arm and shoulder with it.

Draco frowned as he saw a few deep lacerations running down his arm. Whatever had gotten a hold of him had not been kind.

Snape's teeth were chattering, his skin was more pale than usual, and his skin was ice to the touch. Hermione left his side and dragged a comforter off the back of the chair by the hearth and covered him with it.

She pulled out another potion, shook it, opened it, sniffed it, and gently placed it to his lips. "Please, my Master, drink this," she whispered softly, causing Draco to snap his head up in surprise. Master?

Snape, much to Draco's amazement, did as he was told, no suspicion as to what potion she was feeding him. His teeth were still chattering.

"The fire is not warm enough for you, Master," Hermione said worriedly. "The blankets are not helping."

There was something in the tone of her voice that made Draco pay attention. She was asking permission for something. It was something he himself used to implore his father for permission. She was giving him a verbal kowtow.

" .s..tupid girl," Severus hissed through chattering teeth. "You can… trust him."

Hermione gave Draco a look that was rooted in conflict. "Yes, Master." Draco saw a change go across Hermione's face. The emotional, self-righteous, bossy, and aggressively know-it-all-ness that was the epitome of Hermione Granger fell away to be replaced by something unreadable.

Her form shimmered, as if it were losing definition, and then, almost as if one body was bursting forth from another, Hermione Granger was not anywhere close to being Hermione Granger.

Dark barred wings flared outward in a fan as the face of a giant eagle glared at Draco with unnerving intelligent brown eyes. Her beak snapped together with an audible crack as he traced the wicked curve of the hook. Her body radiated heat unlike anything he had ever felt. The feathers on her head flared upward like a mane on a lion, melding into the dark tawny fur of a lioness' hind quarters, Dark, almost impossibly large claws, clicked on the stone floor of the chamber. It took everything within Draco not to back-peddle across the floor and slam himself against the nearby wall.

Hermione's front eagle talons stretched outward, getting caught in the comforter. She used her beak to peel the fabric away with annoyance. Draco tentatively reached out to assist her, half expecting the wickedly curved beak to come swinging around to snap at his torso.

To his relief, she froze, allowing him to untangle her from the comforter. Her warm breaths hit his hands, and she curled up next to the body of his godfather. She lowered herself down to the floor and fanned her wing out over him. The heat her body was radiating was like a raging bonfire. Severus' teeth stopped chattering shortly after, and his eyes were already closed.

Hermione's head lay down beside Severus'. His pale skin contrasted against the deep golden brown feathers of her head. Her eyes met Draco's and a deep resonating rumble emitted from her body like a purr.

Draco extended one hand slowly to touch the feathers of her wing that was curled around his godfather like a blanket. He watched her carefully for any sign of displeasure, but her eyes regarded him with curiosity rather than hostility. To his surprise, her feathers were as soft as silk, as smooth as the fine silk his parents had shipped in from far off places. The warmth from her wing was tangible and soothing.

Draco looked into the gryphon's eyes once more as some deeper realization connected them. He had no idea who the real Hermione Granger was, and she… she never had any reason to think he was anything but his father's child.

He extended his hand. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, Hermione Granger. Can we start over? My name… is Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."

The gryphon that was Hermione Granger inhaled and exhaled audibly. After a long moment, perhaps how to decide the best course of action, she touched her beak to his hand.

Hermione lowered her head back down next to Severus' and nuzzled in closer. Instinctively or intentionally, Severus curled in closer to her body and her warmth. His trembling had stopped, and his breathing was now slow and steady.

Slowly, Draco placed his hand on Hermione's eagle-shaped head, gently soothing the silky feathers with his fingers. Hermione's eyes drifted closed slowly at last.

End Flashback.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Severus Snape returned to his chambers to find his godson curled up against his Apprentice in a very undignified, half-drooling sleep. Hermione, her wing draped around Draco in a very familiar protective wing-embrace, was curled up near the fireplace, radiating her own heat in competition with the fireplace itself. Their study materials were scattered around the floor haphazardly. Sitting on the nearby table were the ingredients that he had requested them fetch.

Arching a brow in mild amusement, he yawned, indulging in a bit of irony that Draco and Hermione would end up so close. It was hard enough to wrap his mind around how close Hermione had come to be to him, and yet, the three of them had become something of a trio. It had begun after that one night he had returned from Dumbledore's fetching errand that the strange bond had been forged between he and his faithful apprentice. Nothing quite like bleeding out in front of your young apprentice and relying on her to patch you back up without telling your boss to bring someone closer together.

:Hermione,: he whispered into her mind. :Double potions class is soon. You may wish to change your appearance."

The sleepy gryphon curled up next to his fireplace opened her eyes groggily, her beak opened in a wide yawn that ended in a eagle squeak. She nudged Draco with her beak and used the curved end of it to stick under his arm and hit his ticklish spot.

Draco bolted awake with half his hair formed into a wonderful example of a cow lick.

Hermione stood up, stretched, and ruffled her wings. Draco leaned on her sleepily before stretching and combing his hair back into place.

Severus watched Hermione groggily head towards the door.

"Do you intent to attend my class like that, Ms. Granger?" Severus asked dryly. "I wonder how many points I could deduct before the screaming started."

If gryphons could blush, Severus was pretty sure Hermione would have made a stunning example. Within a few seconds, Hermione Granger the human witch was standing where the sleepy gryphon had been moments earlier. "Mmfmmpfhankyou, Master," she murmured as she disillusioned herself and exited out the front portal.

"That's totally not fair," Draco grumbled. "She can turn herself invisible in a half sleep haze, and I can't even do that wide awake."

Severus shooed his godson out of his chambers, which had become some sort of private study room sometime within the past year and he wasn't quite sure how.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Draco said, picking up their scattered books and slinging them under his arms. "Enjoy your deer parts."

Snape looked at the wrapped deer leg on his table with tolerance. They'd thank him later.


	7. Campfire Cookery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns that messing with a boy's broom makes her public enemy number one.  
> Hermione and Draco attempt to wrangle together ideas to save Buckbeak.  
> Snape, Hermione, and Draco have a little bonding time around the campfire.

Chapter 7 : Campfire Cookery

“Why your Kneazle in Severus’ office?” signed Draco as he slapped Crabbe over the head with his hand and practically stuffed his face into his cauldron.

Hermione slumped her shoulders. “Ron Thinks Kneazle ate rat.” They hadn’t figured out a small sign for Crookshanks. She regretted giving the poor cat such a long name now that she really wanted to shorten it down into something and finger-spelling it with their makeshift finger alphabet would be as obvious as waving a cape in front of a bull.

Draco whispered something to Goyle, causing Goyle to focus on Harry with some snickers of his own. “Again?” Draco signed, rolling his eyes.

“Never-ending argument,” Hermione gestured, frowning at her cauldron like it had committed a capitol offense to Wizard-kind.

Crabbe’s cauldron blew up on him and Goyle with a very pretty poof of red powder, causing snickers to ripple up and down the classroom.

“Take your… redness to the hospital wing,” Snape hissed. “If you can manage that without… hurting yourselves.”

Crabbe and Goyle looked sheepish as they slunk out of the classroom.

Ron and Harry grumbled under their breath that Snape didn’t bother docking his own house points for blowing up their cauldrons.

“What was that, Potter?”

“Nothing, sir,” Harry said into this cauldron.

Snape’s eyes narrowed, but he continued to pace up and down the aisles, looking over cauldrons.

“Harry ignoring you too?” Draco signed more lazily, now that his two escorts were off being de-slimed.

“Mad. His broom. Possible cursed. Sirius Black,” Hermione motioned back. “Told McGonagall.”

Draco ruffled his hair as he looked down at his cauldron and added an ingredient, stirring it slowly. “Ugh. Don’t. Mess. With. Quidditch.”

Hermione turned red, throwing an ingredient in her cauldron and stirring it anti-clockwise.

Draco scratched his head, signing, “They’re idiots.”

Hermione smiled slightly. “Still hurts.” She yawned tiredly. The time-turning was killing her slowly.

:You are about to fall asleep in your cauldron,: Severus’ mind voice startled her. :You potion is, at least, done. Perfect color.:

Hermione blinked sleepily. :Thank you, Master.:

:Bottle your potion and bring it to me,: Snape said as he scowled down at a student in front of him. :Neville’s potion is about to blow up. It’s cherry red, so it’s going to be cold. Use it as an excuse to go rest in the hospital ward.”

Hermione smiled as she decanted her potion into a flask, lifted it up to check color and viscosity, and stoppered it. She brought it up to Severus’ desk and placed it with the others to be graded. Snape scowled at her as she passed.

Hermione walked back towards her desk and gathered all her things together, making sure her back was towards Neville’s cauldron just as the BOOM of his horrible mistake blew cherry red colored globs of his mistake all over Hermione’s back and his front.

“Neville Longbottom,” Severus droned acerbically. “You really are… an idiot.”

Neville was dripping red goo off himself. It was quite an attractive cherry red that would have made a stellar candy color, had it not been some potion mistake.

“Longbottom,” Severus said through gritted teeth. “You and Ms. Granger can go hose off in the hospital wing and make sure you aren’t mutating into some radiation eating moth creature. You will take a zero for your potion and 5 points from Gryffindor for sliming your fellow House-mate. Be grateful you didn’t blow her up.”

Neville looked, albeit slimy, apologetic to Hermione through his mask of red. The two of them shuffled out of the classroom. Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances, temporarily forgetting their grudge against their friend.

“Sneak sandwich Hermione,” Severus signed to Draco as he ran his hand through his hair with a disgusted look he raked across the Gryffindor side of the room. “Help Hermione build case defend hippogriff.”

“Affirmative,” came Draco’s reply as he decanted his finished potion into a flask before the rest of Slytherin. He wasn’t as fast as Hermione, but he was, at least, a close second. She was the potions apprentice, after all, so he didn’t feel as inept as if he was second place to Potter.

Draco glared at Potter and the weasel out of principle. They really had no clue what Hermione was doing, learning, and sacrificing just to keep the both of the dimwits safe. One might be able to argue that Crabbe and Goyle were definitely more intellectually challenged than Potter and the Weasel, there were times when Draco grouped the four of them together in sheer idiocy. After all, Sirius Black, infamous murderer was after Harry Potter, and Harry and Ron were too busy being mad at Hermione to realize that they were shunning their biggest asset.

As the class was dismissed, Severus nodded to Draco silently as he left.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Crabbe and Goyle were, thankfully, preoccupied stuffing their faces after their hospital stay to care where Draco was, which made his sneaking in to the hospital to bring Hermione a sandwich much easier. He brought the notes he had made from The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology as well as Fowl of Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality.

The two of them worked for a few hours on outlining Buckbeak’s defense for Hagrid with Neville snoring away in the bed nearby.

“He’s slept the entire time,” Draco commented.

“I slipped him a sleeping draught in his drink,” Hermione said as she quilled on the parchment in front of her.

Draco snorted. “You know, if I didn’t know all the things you can do, you’d really scare me sometimes with how casually you do things like that.”

Hermione grinned at him. “I think we have everything we can get for Hagrid. I just hope it’s enough.”

Draco nodded. “Do you want me to mail it for you? When does Madam Pomfrey let you go?”

“She says until morning,” Hermione said. Just to make sure the ointment she put on my back did its job.

“That explains why Neville looks like he’s covered in oil,” Draco admitted, gesturing in Neville’s bed’s direction.

Hermione laughed. “At least it was on my back.”

“Did my godfather seriously tell you to take it just so you could get some rest?” Draco asked.

Hermione smirked. “He shows he cares by ordering me to get a cauldron exploded on me. It’s okay, though. He knew what it was going to do by the color.”

“You have this odd kind of trust in him, you know that?” Draco mused.

Hermione shrugged, yawning.

“You should sleep, though,” Draco agreed. “I’ll owl this off for you so Hagrid just thinks you sent it.”

Hermione nodded as she passed over their research. “Thanks.”

Draco smiled and stood up. “See you tomorrow night. I think my godfather is plotting something for us.”

Hermione raised a brow in true Slytherin style.

“We’ll make a snake out of you yet, Hermione Granger,” Draco whistled as he walked out of the ward.

“You wish, Malfoy,” she hissed as her head flopped back on the pillow.

And Neville Longbottom snored on.

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione dodged quite a few stinging hexes before Draco finally tripped up her rear legs with ropes and made her stumble. She snapped the bonds with her beak and tore after him, wing buffeting him off his feet and into the ground.

Draco gave a yell, flinging a curse at her eyes, blinding her with ectoplasm to the face.

Hermione squawked loudly, flinging her head back and forth, clipping Draco in the chest and knocking him backward.

Draco rolled in the dirt to get away from her thrashing head, getting behind her as she wiped her head against the ground to wipe the goo off her eyes.

Hermione’s long tail slashed back and forth and whapped him upside the face, and she whirled around like a viper, beak poised to snap.

“Stop,” Severus said softly.

Both combatants froze in place. The Potion Master gently laid his hand upon Hermione’s head and brushed the goo off. “You may move, but the battle is done,” he smirked.

Hermione and Draco relaxed. Hermione snuffled Draco’s face and hit his ticklish spot with her beak. Draco flailed and hugged her neck. “I yield. I yield!”

Severus cuffed the both of them, pointing them towards the campfire he had built and the food he had prepared while they were sparring. Hermione flopped down on the ground and yawned, sprawling her legs out to be more comfortable.

Severus ladled a bowl of stew into a wooden bowl, stuffed a spoon into it, and handed it to Draco. He placed a larger bowl without a spoon in front of Hermione, and then ladled another for himself and leaned back against Hermione’s side.

Hermione, taking the opportunity to practice eating human food with a beak, parted her beak around the bowl and used her tongue in a strange emulation of a cat drinking water.

Draco laughed, eating his stew with a grin. “This is really good, Severus. What’s in it?”

“Family recipe,” Severus said evenly, spooning some of it into his mouth after blowing on it. “I figured you two needed a little extra nutrition with all the drama going on at Hogwarts. A little time away from a hundred and then some dementors is probably a side benefit.”

:They are… creepy, Master: Hermione commented, having successfully cleaned her bowl of stew without getting it all over her feathers or Severus.

Severus grunted. “They are more than just creepy,” he replied verbally for Draco’s benefit. “They are the evil that people attribute to Dark wizards and witches. They spawn in places that are dark, dirty, and ripe with decay. They revel in that same decay, I think, and despair. They sup on your peace of mind, any hope you may have, and perhaps any happiness you may or may not have realized you had.”

Draco shuddered. “They sound absolutely horrible.”

“They are utterly Dark, perfectly unredeemable… and completely focused on their next meal or assisting those that lead to their next meal,” Severus speculated. “I know the Headmaster will not permit the dementors on the school grounds for that reason, which is why he was so upset when they barged in on the Quidditch game and went after Potter.”

“Why did he go after Potter anyway?” Draco asked.

Severus frowned. “I do not think they care if they are feeding off their intended target or anyone slow enough or foolish enough to stand in their way, but… dementors can be attracted to strong emotions.”

:Why aren’t they patrolling out this far, do you think, Master?: Hermione asked.

Severus looked skyward. “Hard to say why they aren’t out this far. Perhaps, they are placing their bets that their prey will come to them. It is, unfortunately, speculation. Only dementors really know what dementors are thinking. They do not… reason… like human being.”

:Because of Harry…: Hermione replied, her mind voice was sad.

:Most likely,: Severus said with the equivalent of a mental shrug.

Draco stared at the empty bowl in front of Hermione. “Why do you think that hippogriffs are so fond of eating ferrets, but gryphons are not?”

:Ferrets don’t even sound tasty when I’m really hungry,: Hermione said with disgust.

“One of life’s mysteries, I’m afraid,” Severus answered, dishing up more stew into each of the bowls.

The three of them continued to eat quietly, watching the stars pass by.

:How did Draco ditch his two cronies?: Hermione asked with a chuckle.

:Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle got in trouble with Minerva today during Transfiguration. They accidentally pushed over a cage of Cornish Pixies they shipped in a mixed up order for Cornish kittens,: Severus answered her. :For once, I’m agreeing with Minerva in public that the punishment she wanted is appropriate.:

:What was the punishment?: Hermione asked as she opened her beak for a large yawn.

:They get to clean up the mess the pixies made of the second floor corridors every night until it is no longer a mess,: he replied.

Hermione’s mental chuckle caused Severus to place his hand on her head and rubbed it absently. Hermione clacked her beak and went slightly limp, enjoying his touch.

Draco, having finished his second bowl of stew, had sprawled back in the grass. His breathing had already slowed down as he relaxed. His expression, free of the mask he automatically maintained much as his godfather held onto his lack of facial expression and Hermione her abundance of it, was a rare reflection of peace.

How long they stayed there sharing each other’s company was hard to say, but at one point, Severus’s eyes opened and his head lifted as if he were hearing a sound the others could not hear. He stood up with a fluid movement, almost immediately missing the comforting warmth the gryphon’s body exuded like a gift to his tense muscles.

He lifted the cauldron off the cooling embers of the fire and carried it to the edge of the clearing, dumping the remains of their dinner a little regretfully. They had eaten most of it, at the very least, and it had been good. The recipe had been one of the few happy memories of his childhood. He cleaned the cauldron with a wave of his wand and shrunk it down, tucking both the cauldron and his wand into the depth of his robe.

He walked back to the campfire and carefully extinguished the embers and patted the earth back over the indention the fire had been set in. It looked pristine, if a bit damp, showing no obvious sign of their passing. As he cast his gaze upon the dozing forms of his apprentice and his godson, a small smile quirked the sides of his mouth, and he allowed himself a warmth of expression he could not in mixed company. When movement from deeper in the forest alerted him to possible incoming discovery, his expression changed instantly. “Time to go,” he said softly. “To me.”

Hermione was instantly on her feet, head up and body tense. Draco rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up with a fluid movement. Draco leapt upon Hermione’s back, tucking himself forward against her neck. Severus stared into the forest with suspicion, but eased onto her back carefully, tucking himself over Draco.

Hermione leapt into the air with great beats of her wings and carried them aloft and away with an eerily quiet exit.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius returned from his forray into Hogwarts in frustration. The rat, Pettigrew, was still alive. He was sure it was Pettigrew now. Absolutely positive. The flat-faced orange cat had actually led him in and out of Hogwarts, much to his delight, and this time, a paper with all the Gryffindor passwords for the week allowed him past the obnoxious portrait that had replaced the one he had torn to pieces in his temper.

The Weasley boy had awoken as he had stood with his knife, listening for that rat’s scramblings… damn it all. He wasn’t there to scare the children. He wasn’t a murderer. One look into the terrified boy’s eyes told him what public opinion painted him as. He was hardly in any condition to argue. He looked like he’d crawled out of gutter, and the one person who was responsible for it was indulging in a cushy life posing as a familiar with a strangely elongated lifespan. Damn it all six times over. He had fled.

As he ran back through the Dark Forest to his accustomed hiding place, he caught the scent of food on the edge of the clearing. His nose led him to where a stew of some sort had been poured to the ground. He looked around, nose twitching. There were other scents mixed in the air, fading quickly, but his hungry stomach refused to parse any scents but the one right in front of him. Food. Glorious cast aside food.

Unable to contain himself, he gobbled down the cast aside stew, caring not how it had arrived or even if it may have been poisoned. All that mattered was that it eased his hunger. A part of him, perhaps, realized that he would have enjoyed the taste of this particular meal as a human, but that part of him was stifled by the demands from his stomach that cared not.

By the time he had licked the grass clean of all evidence of the food he had scavenged, all the scents in the clearing had drifted off, leaving him nothing but the scents of the forest. He flopped on the ground, rolling back into the grass in his relief that at least one imperative need had been appeased once more. Maybe now that his stomach was appeased, he could gain a clear enough mind to figure out his next plan of action against that backstabbing rat named Pettigrew.

He would get his revenge. For Lily. For James. For himself… the godson he was never allowed to know.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Nothing Says Love Like A Punch to the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione punches Draco in the face... all according to plan.  
> Things go down in the Shrieking Shack.

**Chapter 8 : Nothing Says Love Like A Punch to the Face**

 

“You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!” Hermione hissed as she brandished her wand at Draco and pressed him against the stone monolith with the most infuriated expression she had in her repertoire.

Draco closed his eyes, attempting to plaster the back of head against the stone. His two house-mates backed away with far more grudging respect than ever they would show any other time. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged worried glances as if they knew if it came down to wand work, there would be pain, and it would not be the pain of Hermione Granger.

“Hermione, no!” Ron pleaded reason with his infuriated friend, perhaps gaining his own spoonful of respect for Hermione Granger. “He’s not worth it!”

Hermione stayed in place, her wand tightly placed against Draco’s throat. Then, agonisingly slowly, she let her wand drop.

“Get ready, Draco,” Hermione signed as she turned around to leave.

Draco let out a snicker to signal his readiness.

Hermione whirled like a dervish, her right arm swinging out to hook him right in the face.

SMACK!

Draco’s head snapped back and Crabbe and Goyle rushed to help him back up, eyeing the muggle-born witch with a hundred different conflicting expressions. “Ow,” Draco’s hand signalled as he both leaned on his friends for effect and attempted to swing them off of himself to salvage whatever pride he might have.

“Sorry!” Hermione replied silently, putting on her best righteous glare.

“It’s okay,” he replied as he smacked his escorts upside the head in his fury. “Be careful, Ari,” he signalled to her. “Hagrid upset. Minster coming soon.”

Crabbe and Goyle half supported and half dragged Draco back up the hill with mutterings amongst themselves.

“That felt good,” Hermione said, putting on a smug face.

“Not good,” Ron blurted. “Brilliant.”

The trio worked their way down towards Hagrid’s hut, passing by Buckbeak with a resigned and desperate sadness.

Hagrid greeted them warmly, despite it all, accepting their friendship and support despite the upcoming execution. It was a wrongful execution, not justice, and it seemed like no one that could change the fate of the hippogriff could do anything.

Hagrid did, much to Ron’s delight and shame, handed over Scabbers, telling Ron to keep a better eye on his rat. Hermione had started to demand a righteously deserved apology from him when the crashing of the container on the table combined with the pebble to Harry’s head alerted them to Fudge’s approach. The executioner and Dumbledore were approaching. By the time they fled and looked back, the axe came down, sending the birds flying upward.

Hermione attempted to compartmentalise this terrible event, but it was too late. The emotion, raw and begging for justice, filled her and she clutched Ron and Harry with the waves of her pain. A part of her still blamed herself for Buckbeak’s death. It was because of her that the herd had startled and Buckbeak had scented her. It was because Draco wished to save her secret that word had gotten back to his father. And Buckbeak… poor Buckbeak was dead because of her. Hagrid would hate her. He would never understand.

Scabbers took that moment of grief to lay open Ron’s hand with his teeth. Ron gave a yell and tore after his rat with both desperation and fury. He’d just been reunited to the ungrateful creature only to lose him again.

Harry and Hermione tore after him, trampling blindly over the landscape in an attempt to follow him. Ron had finally found Scabbers again, but his look of panic transferred to Hermione and Harry. They turned around to see the angriest and half-starved looking dog staring them down.

And suddenly, Hermione made the connection between the half-starved dog in the Dark Forest, the scent she remembered inside the halls of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter. To protect Harry, she would have to reveal her secret. Her lips parted as her fingers began to extend into talons. Protect. The instinct rose up like a wave of red behind her eyes.

:Severus!” she sent out a clear picture of where she was to her professor and Master. :Sirius Black!: Her body was growing hot as her power gathered to change her.

:Do not transform,: Severus sent back. :I come.:

:Yes, Master,: she said as she accepted his orders without question.

Sirius leapt towards them, and Hermione grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him down to the ground with a flash of movement.

The dog snarled, snapping at Ron, and dragged him under the willow everyone loved to hate.

The willow seemed to realise that it had unwanted company, and it slammed it’s branches down with focused hatred. Hermione went through a myriad of spells in her head that she was “supposed” to know as she played dodge the branches. Harry was scrambling for his glasses, and part of Hermione wished that he could just charm the damnable things to stick to his face until he wanted them to come off.

As she came flying by him as she clung to the swinging vines that had collided with her, she grabbed Harry by the collar and flung him towards the hole that Sirius had dragged Ron, letting go of the branch shortly after to tumble down on top of him.

By the time they found Ron, he was a jabbering mess, pointing to the corner and yelling about animagus, dog, and something unintelligible. It was also at this point that Hermione noticed something about Scabbers. Every time before, Scabbers had been coated in the scent of food. Chips, candy boxes, barbecue sauce, or some other such scent that kept him from smelling like a rat. But Scabbers didn’t smell like a rat at all now. He smelled like…

Hermione sucked her breath in sharply, her lips parted as she tasted the scent in the back of her mouth. A dirty, foul, sort of man-scent was mixed with the scent of rat. Suddenly Crookshank’s focus on Scabbers was more understandable. Scabbers was an animagus. Rage made her hand tremble even as she tried to calm Ron.

Harry was suddenly upon Sirius Black with a rage built on every horrible thing he had been forced to endure under the Dursley’s yoke. His eyes were wild with it. His mind was filled with murder and a hate that she knew would drag him down and twist him into the very thing he fought against. Something had to happen quick to keep her friend from doing something that would scar him in just one more way he’d never be free of.

Things went by in a blur as Hermione stared at Scabbers in Ron’s hands. Ron was stroking his rat with panicked pets, seemingly to reassure the rat, but she sensed she was really trying to reassure himself.

Lupin came in, disarming Harry. The stage changed. Yelling happened. Suddenly Lupin and Black were embracing. Hermione’s mind switched gears again. She was going to need a serious score card to keep track of all of the people that were entangled in this mess.

Then, like a spectre, Severus entered the picture. He disarmed Black and had his wand at his face. “Give me a reason, I beg you,” Severus said in a dangerous growl.

Just when Hermione was letting out a breath of relief, she felt a tug on the wand in her back pocket of her muggle jeans.

:Master, look out!: she warned him, but it was too late.

Harry’s spell disarmed the Potion Master and flung him against the far wall. The crack of his body hitting the side of the shack caused Hermione to tremble. “A teacher…” she moaned.

:Master!: she cried. :Severus!:

There was blood trickling down from his head. He made no response. At that moment, she would have crossed lava fields to feel her Master’s soft touch upon her head and the familiar brush of his mind voice. She would tear the entire group of traitors apart, starting with…

:I’m here,: Severus groaned into her mind. :I will survive.I’m going to give Potter detention until he’s thirty.:

The rage in her fizzled down to a dull roar just as a crash of a body slamming into a hole that was not meant to fit a human sent wood and dust in all directions.

Black and Lupin pulled the very dirty and disturbingly rat-like man out from the hole.

Hermione adjusted her mental score card yet again.

The man, if you could call the groveling and pathetic specimen that he was a man, was begging, pleading, and placating for his life, but no one was being swayed by his words. Ron, who finally replaced his loyal defence of his family’s rat for rage, was looking ready to crawl over towards Peter Pettigrew and beat him with his hands.

Hermione busied herself binding Ron’s leg, ripping the lining of her school robe as she silently and wandlessly cast a scouring charm upon the cloth. It was all Ron needed was to have his leg laid open, survive it, and then end up with an infection on top of it. Madam Pomfrey would have so many horrible dressing downs to bestow… Thankfully, Ron was too occupied with wanting to strangle the life out of He-That-Once-Was-Scabbers to pay attention to what spells she was casting right in front of him without a wand.

Apparently, they were going on the move. Peter was now the villain of choice, Professor Lupin was no longer a betrayer, Sirius Black was not as guilty of murder as he was only a few minutes ago, and Ron owed Crookshanks an apology as soon as he was done limping out of the Shrieking Shack…

As all of them headed out of the shack, Hermione slipped back into the room and grabbed Severus’ wand from the floor and hoisted the board that was laying across him off his chest. Severus winced, rolling out from under it as he held his chest and then touched his head where a trickle of blood was still making its way down his face. He looked at the blood on his fingers with disgust.

“I’ll exit when it’s clear,” Severus said softly. “Thank you.”

Hermione gave him a look filled with emotion.

Silently, he placed his hand on her head, his fingers rustling her hair in a familiar touch. “I’ll be fine. Go. Make sure Potter doesn’t trip over a tree root and knock himself out or trip over Weasley and knock both of themselves out.”

Hermione gave him a tired smile as she handed him his wand, and he nodded to her. She dashed out of the room to catch up with her companions in teacher assault and criminal harbouring.

Professor Lupin was too focused on Pettigrew to notice her absence or return, Harry and Sirius were dragging Ron along with them, and Peter Pettigrew… well he wasn’t in any condition to notice anything while he was fearing for his life. Hermione wished they put a body bind on the rat so he couldn’t get into any more trouble, but she had a feeling Lupin was making him walk in front of him in spite. By the time they reached the Whomping Willow, Hermione was ready for a nap, a shower, a really large cup of tea, and a really big hug from someone, not necessarily in that order.

Hermione sat down next to Ron as Sirius and Harry walked off to talk together. Lupin had his wand pointed at Pettigrew with as much vitriol she had ever seen on the kindly face of the DADA instructor. She updated her mental score card yet again. Relationships were just far too confusing.

As she looked towards Harry and Sirius, she scented a peace between them that almost made everything she had almost done worth suffering through. The jury was still out on how worth it the situation was as it stood.

Ron winced in pain as he tried to bring his leg up. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry I accused Crookshanks for eating Scabbers,” Ron said quietly, “and for accusing you of not caring about it.”

Hermione gave him a tired look, but smiled at him.

“To be fair,” he added, “I do kind of wish he had now.”

They shared a look where Hermione ended up rolling her eyes at Ron with a laugh.

It wasn't a perfect apology, but she’d take it.


	9. Howl Nice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Pettigrew attempts to escape since Remus has a bit of a "problem" on his hands.  
> Snape has Hermione rescue Harry and Sirius from the Dementors.  
> Sirius Black comes to terms with his old adversary.  
> Draco and Hermione are on a mission to save Buckbeak.  
> Lupin learns what his werewolf was up to.

Chapter 9 : Howl Nice to Meet You

 

Harry Potter had just begun to realize that his life was changing for the better when everything went pear-shaped, or perhaps moon-shaped.

Professor Lupin, the kind-hearted and compassionate man they had come to know as their professor, was now quite a bit changed. If transforming into a werewolf was to be considered “a bit” by any stretch of the means.

Ron, who had given a yell shortly after Hermione had pointed to the sky with a frantic gesture, grabbed a hold of Peter Pettigrew’s legs in an attempt to keep him from Lupin’s dropped wand. Ron was having a horrible time of it in the face of Lupin’s transformation thanks to his bitten and overly abused leg. Part of him, and perhaps rightly so, would have preferred the back-peddle and escape approach. The other part of him seemed to realize that the capture of Peter Pettigrew, or his possible escape, could be detrimental to the future for Harry. Ron clamped down hard on Peter’s legs an tripped him up, but Peter was crawling and dragging himself, even with his wrists bound, towards the dropped wand. He kicked out against Ron, smacking Ronald in the face so sharply, hat Ron’s head snapped back with the rest of his body, sending Ron into a fetal position as he held his face with his hands.

Peter grabbed the wand in his clasped hands that still looked as dirty and yellow as his rat form’s paws and poked himself on the forehead.

“Expelliarmus !” Harry yelled, sending the wand flying into the air.

It was too late. Peter grinned triumphantly and waved at Harry as whiskers sprouted out from his cheeks and his face elongated into a rat’s muzzle. In a matter of seconds, Peter was Scabbers again, and he was clambering on the ground with rapid movements to propel himself over the ground and away.

Despair tore through Harry as the one way to clear the name of his godfather and finally have some semblance of a family went scurrying away in the grass.

As Harry made to go tearing after Peter, dark robes slammed into him and dragged him backwards.

“Potter!” Snape’s voice snarled at him.

Lupin was coming in towards them both with muzzle wide to start biting as Sirius leaped in, snarling at the werewolf, tearing the werewolf’s focus off Harry and onto him.

Harry, desperate to go after the fleeing rat, struggled against Snape. “He’s escaping! He’s escaping!” Harry cried in a howl of despair.

Snape pulled him back to where Ron was laying moaning in the grass, his muscles flexed under his dark robes as he kept Harry from breaking free.

Sirius lead Lupin off away from Harry,

Harry half sobbed, torn between watching his godfather’s salvation escape and watching his godfather being flung against a bounder. Sirius’ yelp of pain seemed to break Harry out of bolting for the fleeing rat.

Suddenly, Snape’s crushing restraint released, and Harry was able to breathe again, but in front of him was a sight he hadn’t even thought to imagine.

Hermione stood in front of them, her body as rigid as he was used to seeing in Snape. Her face, however, was not impassive. It was livid with the kind of rage that bled into the eyes and swallowed them up. In her hand, hung Scabbers. He was still struggling against her grip, his teeth digging into her flesh in his desperation to escape, but she wasn’t letting go. Unlike Ron, who had been taken by surprise, Hermione held onto the wriggling body of the animagus, even as blood dripped down the clawed formation of her hands. Her lips formed a flat line as her jaw squared. There was death in her eyes, and there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that if her fingers clenched any closer together, Peter Pettigrew would exchange his struggling for a death rattle.

“Petrificus totalis!” Snape growled as he pointed his wand at Peter, practically shoving the wand down the rodent’s throat.

A sharp yelp broke Harry’s stare at Hermione, and it was if he just realised where he was and who he had been with. “Sirius!” he exclaimed, tearing off over the hill.

“Come back here, Potter!” Snape yelled to no avail.

Harry made no sign of hearing him, let alone obeying the Potion Master, and he tore off after where Sirius was fighting his battle with Lupin.

Severus stayed back, not wishing to leave the vulnerable Ron Weasley in case Lupin returned to have a “bite.” He conjured a stretcher and moved Ron onto it. His hand gently touched Hermione’s, lifting her fingers from the bundle of rat. Severus bound up the body bound rat until it looked like the rodent was encircled by the end of a Muggle Q-tip, even making sure to bind his muzzle shut to prevent him chewing through and cords if he were to wake.

Lifting the stretcher into the air with his wand, he placed the wrapped Q-tipigrew next to Ron. He bound the bundle up to Ron’s arm to insure Peter did not roll off to some place unauthorized. He quickly wrapped Hermione’s bleeding hand with a bandage. He looked up to where Harry was flinging a rock at Lupin, taking his attention off of the animagus, but now the werewolf looked very willing to take out his frustrations on Harry.

Snape exchanged glances with Hermione and then took a step towards Harry as if to go assist him, but then a howl pierced the air from the far hill. Lupin hesitated in his advance. The howl came again, and the werewolf bayed a reply, tearing off down the hill towards the forest in hot pursuit of the howl.

Harry called out towards Sirius, who was stumbling down towards the lake.

Severus met Hermione’s eyes, conflicted. :Hurry. Help me get these two back to Hogwarts. You can double back and help Potter once we hit the gates.:

:Yes, Master,: she replied, grabbing one end of the stretcher. Severus grabbed the other, and they took off in a sprint as they carried the stretcher between them.

The trip back up the Hogwarts was smooth, and as they came up to the gates, they slowed down. Severus turned to her. “I’ll take them up from here. Be swift.”

“Yes, my Master,” Hermione bowed her head, meeting his eyes. Something profound passed between them. Silent and powerful. “Your will is my command,” she said formally, and in an instant, she was aloft, her wings carrying her away with great flaps of her wings.

Severus stood silently, watching Hermione’s departure upon his command. She gave him trust. She gave him loyalty. She gave him respect. She gave him unquestioning obedience, and in that moment, Severus questioned what wondrous and impossible thing he had done to deserve such unshakable faith.

Draco ran out to meet him. “Severus?”

“Help me carry them to the hospital wing,” Severus commanded.

Draco nodded and took up the opposite end and they carried the unconscious cargo up into Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione flew hard into a gust of air current, pinning her wings to her side as she dove at a harsh angle to the ground. Flying was always freeing. The feel of the wind through her feathers never failed to bring a sense of peace she could not obtain any other way.

But tonight brought her no peace. Her mission was simple, but execution… well nothing her Master assigned her was ever truly simple. There was always… complications.

She saw a bright flash of light beaconing from the lake where Sirius and Harry had been heading before she and Severus had put Ron on the stretcher and taken off. She landed in between the trees, her talons skidding across the dirt. The temperature was cold enough that her breath was puffing in the cold, and steam was rising from her body. Happy for her own heat generation and equally sad to lose it as her body shifted into her human self, she tilted her head up and inhaled through her mouth, tasting the scents with all the senses at her disposal.

The scent was bitter, acrid, and foul. Dementors.

Gritting her teeth, she hurried between the trees to make her way to the shore. Two figures lay still by the lake. Harry and Sirius. She rushed to their sides and placed her hand on their neck to check for vitals as she put her ear to their chests. Alive. Thank Merlin.

The temperature was warmer now and the scent of the Dark creatures was already fading. Whatever had happened, it had left them alive and the dementors fleeing.

Waving her wand, she levitated the two of them, binding them together in cords. She tied the cords so they floated close to each other and left a length of cord hanging down. Shifting, she grasped the cord in her beak and took off running towards Hogwarts. At one point, Harry and Sirius slammed into a few trunks of trees, much to Hermione’s chagrin.

Chirping apologies in what could only be described as gryphonese, Hermione tugged them free of the trees and set off in a brisk gallop. As she made her way to the gates of Hogwarts, she spit out the rope and shifted again, running her hand through her hair in a combination of weariness and relief even as she scraped her tongue to rid herself of the fibres in her mouth.

Severus and Draco were waiting for her in the shadows of the gate. The Potion Master cast his gaze upon the bound bodies of Harry and Sirius with a lifted eyebrow. He took the rope in his pale hand with a slight quirk of the lips. Draco untied Harry from Sirius, so the two floated separately.

“I’ll take Potter to the hospital wing,” Severus said. “You two take Black to my quarters. Ward him in and give him a dose of a sleeping draught. I will take care of him and then make sure the business with the rat is taken care of.”

Hermione and Draco nodded, putting Sirius between them as they linked arms.

“Hermione, Draco” Severus said lowly. “Use the closet after you are done moving Black. Take Draco with you. Three turns back, and make sure Fudge is foiled, and these two dimwits survive the night with Lupin and whatever else.”

“Yes, my Master,” Hermione said.

“Yes, Severus,” Draco answered.

The two of them dragged and floated Sirius Black down into the dungeons, while dodging fellow students to avoid being seen.

Severus tugged on the line connected to Harry Potter and sighed, dragging the body with him towards the hospital wing for the second time that night.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius woke with a groan, placing his hand on his forehead and combing through his hair. He winced with pain and saw that his skin had been cleaned and bandaged. There was the scent of ointment under the bandages.

“Decided to make your reappearance in the land of the living, I see,” droned a velvet voice.

Sirius’ head snapped up almost immediately, and he regretted it as pain shot up his arm and neck. Sitting in the chair nearby was a achingly familiar darkly clad wizard. Obsidian eyes flicked up over the book he was reading to regard the dog animagus.

“Sniv…” Sirius began and then seemed to realize something. “Severus,” he said in confusion. “You dressed my wounds?”

Severus looked at him with a half curled lip. “Would you have preferred to bleed out, perhaps?” There was disgust flickering across his obsidian eyes on his contrasting impassive face. No longer guilty of murders he was thought to have committed, Sirius Black was still guilty of quite a number of unforgivable actions during his time as a student.

Black cast his eyes down, finding himself unable to sustain eye contact with the dark wizard as he once had so long ago. His bravado and confidence seemed so very far away, buried in a time when his stalwart friends provided the support he had relied on time and again. Before him was not the shy and tormented student that had been the target of so many pranks and immature ridicule. It was the man all their ridicule and torture had created. Twelve years trapped in Azkaban with all the happiness drained out of him had put some things in perspective… a little late.

“Regardless of my opinion of you, Mr. Black,” Severus said in a low voice, “There are those who believe you are worth saving, and those who, despite all common sense, seem to think you’ve paid your penance by serving time for crimes you did not commit.”

Sirius attempted to search Snape’s face for some sort of facial cue, but found it impassive. Even his eyes, which had just held such fresh disgust, were fathomless and entirely unreadable. “Harry?”

“Sleeping off his adventure with Weasley in the hospital wing,” Severus replied, closing the book in his hands and setting it on the nearby table. “Blissfully unconscious.”

“Wormtail?” Sirius asked.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Feeling like a specimen in a jar, I believe. Many have now witnessed his miraculous un-murder.”

Sirius looked around, noticing for the first time where he was, or rather where he wasn’t.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Albus Dumbledore believes you are safer here than locked in a tower awaiting the dementors,” he explained. “Seeing as they have not been informed, as of yet.”

Sirius’ body seemed to fold in on itself as twelve years of persecution began to have a light at the end of the tunnel.

A clunk of a plate against the nearby table caused him to tense. It was piled with cheese, bread, and a thick soup.

Black stared at the food, his hand tentatively reaching towards it as if he were afraid it might disappear like a mirage. He looked at Severus with a myriad of emotions.

“Poisoning you, while it may undoubtedly provide some measure of pleasure, would be a very anti-climactic end for you, Mr. Black,” Snape said with a curl of his lip.

Sirius attacked the food without further hesitation. When every crumb and bit of the soup was gone, he looked slightly more sane in the face of his possible future. “Thank you,” he said softly, almost a whisper.

Black eyes met his, as unreadable as his face.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“They’re not leaving,” Draco gestured. “Three incoming.” He gestured jerkily towards the path where Fudge, Dumbledore, and the executioner were wandering down the path.

Hermione looked over the pumpkins with concern, seeing herself talking with Ron. Her hand slipped on the pumpkin top and touched a stone with a strangely familiar pattern. Her hand closed upon it and she flung it towards the window.

CRASH.

The pot on the table broke, but none of them seemed to realize that they needed to look out the bloody window.

Draco leapt up quickly nd flung something towards the window as well.

“Ow!” Harry yelled, rubbing his head and looking out the window.

“Good one,” Hermione gestured. “Tip him off. Not knock him out.”

Draco gave her an apologetic expression. As Dumbledore and his group went into the hut, her previous self was coming out.

“Hide,” Hermione gestured with a jerk of her chin, and the two of them fled into the trees.

They plastered themselves into the darkness of the trees.

“Creepy. Two of you,” Draco signed, his eyes watching the trio hiding behind the pumpkins.

“Does my hair really look like that?” Hermione questioned.

Draco shot her a look. “You choose…now…to be a girl?” he gestured in frustration, giving her a shake of his head and a scrunched up face.

A snap of a twig caused them both to go rigid against their trees, but soon after the trio fled back up the hill.

Draco waved at her to follow him, and she hunkered down as she did so. They worked their way back up through the pumpkins. The crows were all being obnoxious around the patch, not even bothering to move when they walked through. As if to make their mission even more challenging, they called loudly and attacked their shoes.

Draco went for the chain as Buckbeak seemed to notice him for the first time. Draco immediately cast himself into a bow with Hermione, the two of them desperate to move him, but knowing if they neglected this one important part of hippogriff manners, the mission would fail before it even began.

After a tense few seconds, the hippogriff bowed his head and set it back on his feet, seemingly disinterested.

Draco fumbled with the chain on the post, punching one of the crows that kept pecking his fingers off the post with his hand, sending the indignant crow flying off to another post. Draco pulled the chain, keeping his profile low so he would not show up on the horizon from the trio would be undoubtedly watching from afar.

Buckbeak wasn’t interested in moving.

Draco shot Hermione a desperate look.

Hermione looked from Buckbeak to Draco and then remembered the stand of dead ferrets Hagrid kept on the edge of the patch. She went for it quickly, slinging the ferret carcasses around her neck and shoulders with slight disgust. Why couldn’t the hippogriff like almond cookies or something?

Hermione tossed Draco a ferret, and he caught it easily, waving it in front of the hippogriff. Buckbeak seemed much more interested now, and actually stood up, craning his neck to seek the ferret.

Draco tossed it to him and tugged on the chain. Hermione waved another one as the hippogriff took more steps towards her. The door opened and Hermione’s face and body went rigid with panic. Buckbeak made to snap at the ferret in her hand and she tossed it into the air to keep her hand from being taken.

Dumbledore seemed to be pointing out the strawberry patch to the group, and for once his long winded and random factoids were never so much welcome to the two students trying to smuggle a hippogriff out from a pumpkin patch right out from under the nose of the executioner.

Hermione waved another ferret and moved further back into the woods. She tossed Draco a ferret and they took turns feeding and luring the hungry hippogriff into the trees.

Just as they faded into the foliage, Cornelius Fudge yelling.

“Search the skies if you must, Minister,” Dumbledore said, gesturing upward. “I for one could do with a nice cup of tea… or perhaps… a very large brandy.”

“O….of course, Professor,” Hagrid said with confusion, gesturing for Dumbledore to come back into his hut.

Draco and Hermione continued to lead the hippogriff deeper into the forest.

“What do we do with him?” Draco asked as they hurried along together.

“Remember that time Neville blew up his cauldron and his hair was red like Ron’s for a month?” Hermione explained.

“How could I forget,” Draco answered. “It was hilarious.”

“I saved some,” she explained, pulling out a vial from her robe.

“I swear you and Severus have bottomless pockets in your robes,” Draco said with a shake of his head.

Hermione grinned, popping the cork on the vial, sniffing it, and then pouring the contents down one of the ferrets mouths. She waved it in front of Buckbeak, and the hippogriff gobbled it down.

Draco watched as the hippogriff’s plumage turned a rusty red color, and his wings turned the color of Weasley hair. “Brilliant,” he said. “Never thought one of Neville’s mistakes would be so useful.”

Hermione grinned. They tucked the chain around Buckbeak’s neck so he wouldn’t get snagged on anything. “We need to give you another name, Beaky,” Hermione said softly, giving the hippogriff another ferret.

“Witherwings,” Draco suggested, pointing at how the potion made the hippogriff’s wings look like a mismatch of feathers.

Hermione smirked. “That will do. I hope you understand,” she said to the hippogriff.

Hermione looked up. “Come on, we need to go watch over the hill by the Whomping Willow.”

They left the newly witness-protected hippogriff with a pile of ferrets, hoping he didn’t go flying back to Hagrid so soon, even if he did technically look different.

The wait on the hill overlooking the Whomping Willow was, for the moment, peaceful. Hermione detailed the events as they had happened to Draco. He listened intently, chewing on the adventure bit by bit until he knew it backwards and forwards.

By the time Lupin had transformed, Draco and Hermione were on the move. The reached a clearing in time to see Lupin attempting to leap towards Harry an attempt to either take him out or infect him with a very hairy monthly issue.

Hermione let out a howl, pitching her head back to make the sound resonate in the air.

Draco followed suit, making it sound like there was a pack of werewolves hunting the grounds.

Lupin, drawn to the sound of what could have been his own kind, started to run towards them.

“Run!” Draco hissed, running quickly beside her into the woods. They ran together wordlessly, saving their breath for powering their feet with Lupin not so very far behind them.

Hermione waited for a moment in order to transform without causing herself to trip over her own legs or cause Draco to trip over her. She had to have a few seconds to allow Draco to orientate to get on her back as well. All of these were seconds she did not have while they were busy luring Lupin as far away from Harry Potter and his friends.

At one point, however, the darkness of the woods and damnable human vision caused Draco to trip, and he sprawled on the ground with a painful gasp of air and a curse.

Hermione turned back and saw Lupin coming towards them. There was no time to flee. She shifted, towering over Draco’s prone body as she fell on four legs , flaring out her wings and letting out a roar she hadn’t even known she was capable of. Draco was struggling underneath her to get to his feet, somewhat hampered by the pillars of Hermione’s lion and eagle legs.

Suddenly there was a cry as a blur of red and russet colored wings came down upon Lupin as he leapt forward. The angry hippogriff screamed a challenge as both forelegs smashed into Lupin’s body. The angry creature whipped his rear end around and kicked backwards, slamming Lupin’s jaw closed with a merciless kick. Witherwings cried out a challenge, wedging himself between the beaten werewolf and the gryphon who was protectively straddling Draco Malfoy.

Lupin, withdrew, retreating deeper into the woods with a whine. Even in his current state of mind, the werewolf seemed to realize that retreat was the better option.

Draco rolled onto his belly and pushed himself off, placing his hand to Hermione’s back to steady himself. Witherwings was breathing heavily, but he turned to regard the young wizard and what should have been his instinctive enemy.

The hippogriff stared into Hermione’s brown eyes for what could have been a minute or two hours. Then, in an act that Draco would probably carry to his grave, Witherwings bowed onto his front legs to Hermione. Prey gave respect to his instinctive predator.

Hermione’s body was tense under Draco’s hand, but he felt her muscles ripple. Then, she sank down onto her front legs, returning the bow to the hippogriff.

They rose up together, and Witherwings extended his beak and Hermione gently extended her neck to touch her beak to his. Peace at last.

The cold in the air caused Hermione and Draco to look up. Dementors.

Hermione chirped, tossing her head, and Draco leapt upon her back without needing to be told. He tucked himself into position as she leapt into the air, gliding above the tree line towards the lake where she had found Harry and Sirius laying unconscious by the shore in her memories.

The dementors were swarming like flies over a carcass, taking turns sucking both the happiness in the air and the spirit from Harry and his godfather. Harry was attempting to conjure a patronus to defend Sirius, but the dementors were too many for the strength of his inexperienced patronus.

The dementors began to feed off Harry as well, breaking his concentration, and subsequently his patronus.

Hermione stood into her human form and rushed with Draco to the shore opposing Harry. They slammed their wand hands together, linking their fingers as they pressed their wands together. “Expecto Patronum!” they yelled together.

A bright flash of light burst from their joined wands and pulsed outwards in increasing strength. Draco concentrated on making an expanding sphere of power as Hermione’s otter zinged out like a seeking missile and drove the dementors that avoided the expanding patronus field away.

When the last of the dementors had fled, Hermione and Draco slowly lowered their wands. Draco’s fingers untangled from Hermione’s and they exchanged silent relief. Harry collapsed next to Sirius as the light from their combined patroni faded enough to reveal his true saviors too late for him to recognize them.

Both of them slumped as relief warred with exhaustion.

Draco put his arm around Hermione’s shoulder, bumping his shoulder into hers. “Life with you and my godfather is anything but dull.”

“Let’s move, before I see myself,” Hermione warned. They fled back into the woods together.

They found the hippogriff snuffling around the woods nearby. “I’ll take Witherwings back to Hagrid’s place for him to trip over, Draco said, bowing to the hippogriff as he took his chain in his hand. The hippogriff returned the bow with an ease that was beginning to feel normal. “You should… appear in the hospital wing to check on Potter and the weasel.”

Hermione smiled as Draco climbed on the hippogryph’s back and took the chain in his hands. “Be safe, Draco,” she said softly.

Draco gave her his best Slytherin arrogance. “Of course, Granger. What do you take me for? A bloody Gryffindor?” The hippogriff went into a run and leapt into the air with Draco clinging to his back. “Watch your back,” Draco signalled with his hands as they flew off.

Hermione leapt into the air, her wings carrying her aloft as she made her way back towards Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

SIRIUS BLACK REDEEMED!

DIRTY RAT FOUND GUILTY!

12 years after the gruesome murder of 12 muggles and the supposid murder of the loyal friend of James and Lily Potter at the conclusion of the Wizarding war, the true culprit, Peter Pettigrew has been found, interrogated, and condemned by his own memories. This dispicable rat, that framed his then friend, Sirius Black, for the murders of his friends as well as 12 muggles, had been found guilty of deeds most foul in the service of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Pettigrew has been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Ministry is considering the Kiss for Pettigrew and swears restitution to Mr. Black for their twelve year mistake.

Harry Potter dropped the paper he was reading from his hospital bed with the kind of relief that radiated from deep within. He flicked his eyes over towards Ron, who was buried in owl letters from his family about the discovery of Scabber’s true identity. Ron himself, was passed out like a light, still recovering from the adventure

Hermione smiled at him from her set on the side of Harry’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said with the smile that seemed like a reflection of a certain 11-year old boy who once discovered that magic was real and he was a wizard. “Hermione, you look like you need all the sleep I just had.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said with a lop-sided smirk.

Harry placed his hand on hers. “Thanks, Hermione. Dumbledore said it was because of you I made it back to Hogwarts.”

Hermione furrowed her brows, wondering how Severus had told Dumbledore that she had brought Harry and Ron back, yet managed not to reveal the how or who with. Part of wished she’d been a fly on the wall for that particular conversation. She was pretty sure it would have been a conversation worthy of a Slytherin.

“Get some sleep, Hermione,” Harry chided her as he flopped back on the pillow. “We’ll see you tomorrow when Madam Pomfrey lets us out.”

Hermione smiled. “Okay. See you tomorrow, Harry.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Remus Lupin had experienced better nights and even better mornings, but he had to admit that the morning after his adventure losing his human mind and attacking his friends and students was not the highlight of his history.

He had, strangely enough, woken up curled up by a warm fire and covered with a blanket. A pile of clothing lay folded nearby next to a cup of steaming tea.

Seeing the clothing stacked beside him, he realized with a little belated shame, that he was not exactly dressed for public consumption. He rubbed his jaw as he pulled the blanket around himself. What in Merlin had he gotten himself into last night? He felt like he’d been kicked by a horse.

“Might as well put on some clothes,” a voice said with a familiar sugar-laden tone.

Remus looked up with wide eyes to see Sirius staring at him with a smile on his face. “But it’s not like we didn’t see you in your birthday suit to dress your wounds.”

Lupin’s face grew red as he hurridly pulled a shirt and boxers on with all haste. “We?” he managed to ask.

The mass of black cloth that was standing motionless by the door at that point moved, startling Lupin even with his supposidly heightened senses.

Severus looked down at Lupin with his typical impassive expression that showed neither embarrassment nor disgust at having the naked werewolf wake up on his sitting room floor. Lupin found it infinitely more discomfiting than expression. Expression made one seem human, and at that moment Severus was as inhuman as anything he had ever seen.

Lupin swallowed hard and finished dressing, finally allowing the blanket to fall to the floor. “I owe you my thanks,” he managed to say awkwardly, downing the tea that had been waiting for him in one swig.

“It is not to me that your thanks is required,” Snape said cooly. He ran his fingers across his lower lip as his eyes bore into Lupin. “I am not the one who found and carried your post-transformative body here.”

Lupin frowned and looked at Sirius.

“Not me, Moony,” Sirius said with a shake of his head. He gestured with his thumb to the door to the next room. “I’ve already eaten my fair share of humble pie this morning.”

Remus stood up slightly shakily and walked into the next room. Sirius had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, but he wasn’t offering anything else. One glance to Snape confirmed he wasn’t going to get anything out of him, but while he was wracking up miracle points, he figured trying to gain a few more might not be too much to ask.

In the next room, Draco Malfoy was curled up next to the feathered mane of a gryphon that looked as if she had walked right out of one of the magical tapestries that hung in the corridors of Hogwarts. Her eyes were closed, and Draco had his arm wrapped around her neck and into her feathers. Both were sleeping. Their breathing was long and easy.

Lupin looked as though he was going to say something.

“Do… not… wake them,” Severus said lowly. “You will wait for them to wake on their own. Show them the respect they deserve.”

Lupin looked to look Snape in the eyes. Snape was motionless in an eerie way. His robe hung around him like a shroud, framing his pale skin. There was no compromise in his stature. There was no yield. Remus realized, as he saw Severus Snape clearly for perhaps the first time, penance would be a long road… but perhaps it was truly possible. His eyes met Sirius, who nodded to him silently, and then he turned his gaze back to Severus. Black eyes met his unflinching. Where Dumbledore held his power covered under the cloak of a kindly old man, Severus held everything about him under the cloak of mystery.

Lupin cast his eyes away and sat in the nearby chair. He would wait. It was the least he could do for the reprieve he had been granted.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione woke slowly to the crackle of the hearth and the comforting scent of both Draco and Severus mingled together. Her tail curled upward and flicked idly as two other scents floated into her awareness. Her eyes came open quickly, her fore-talons clenched together. She whapped her tail into Draco gently, her body tensing slightly as she evaluated what she may have to do.

Professor Lupin was kneeling in the middle of the room. His scent was drenched in healing balms quite strongly due to the medicated bandages criss-crossed over his body. His jaw worked slowly and awkwardly.

Hermione felt Draco waking, and his arm tightened around her neck scruff as he stirred. She maneuvered herself up onto her feet and wedged herself between Lupin and Draco, giving Draco time to come to alertness. Both of them had fallen asleep in the Potion Master’s private quarters. It was notoriously safe. They had never had any reason to doubt it, but Hermione’s instincts were strong. Guard. Protect. Defend.

Draco stroked her neck feathers gently with a specific touch, signaling he was aware and ready. She whapped him once with her tail, running it along his side in reply.

“I owe you my dignity and my life, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy,” Lupin intoned formally. “I swear to you on my honor and my wand that I will assist you in whatever way I can and preserve your secrets until you alone wish them known as you have gone out of your way to preserve mine.”

Hermione froze in place, even her tail had gone still. Her eyes flicked to Draco, who seemed to have the same flabbergasted thoughts running through his head. Her eyes fell on Severus, who was watching them with a calmness that put her at ease without him saying a word. He had allowed Lupin into the room while she was changed… while she and Draco had been resting. She trusted his judgment. Having allies amongst the staff and outside wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Sirius had already sworn himself to secrecy and to their cause earlier in the morning when he had begged Severus for help retrieving Lupin before his secret was discovered.

Hermione bowed her head as Draco bowed his in formal acceptance to Lupin’s words.

Sirius stepped in next to Lupin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “The Ministry has unfrozen my assets after their embarrassment over my newly discovered innocence. My old family home at 12 Grimmauld Place hasn’t seen hide nor hair of me in twelve years. Perhaps…” Sirius furrowed his brows and looked at Severus. “I know I wasn’t welcoming to you before, Severus, but if you ever needed a place to meet outside of Hogwarts…”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Is it not claimed by the Order?”

Black shrugged. “Technically, yes, but it never stopped being my family’s.”

:Order, Master?: Hermione asked, her tail whapping against Draco as the pair walked up to his side.

:A long story, my Apprentice,: Severus replied softly, placing his hand on the feathers of her head and stroking them absently. :Remind me to tell you when we do not have so many… guests.”

Hermione leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, dropping the subject.

“If Mr. Potter wishes to renew his connection to you and abandon the Dursleys, which I do not expect him to return to if he had a true choice, meeting there may not be… secret enough for our purposes,” Severus replied with a tilt of his head. “I am, however, appreciative of the offer.”

Sirius inhaled deeply and let it out. “Harry…” he said with a nod. “How is it that the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and a random Gryffindor witch, no insult to you Draco or you, my lady, seem so much more in the know than the boy they are protecting?”

Severus tilted his head slightly. “Mr. Potter… may have a link to the Dark Lord. It’s nature, as of yet, is untested and unproven. It is, undoubtedly, unconscious, but his mind resists discipline, and doubly so resists me out of principle. I cannot, publicly, support him, and since his mind is unfortunately, an open door, his knowing anything about me is a danger that will expose myself and those under my care.” His eyes flicked to Draco and Hermione.

Lupin seemed curious as well. “How is it that your charges seem to be immune to the same sentiment, Severus? They too are privy to secrets that can be read.”

Severus’ lips curved upward slightly. “They are occulomens,” he said simply. “They are also very good occulomens. Masters, perhaps, in comparison to those we even have to compare to.”

Lupin and Sirius exchanged glances. “That’s a lot to take in, Severus,” Lupin said softly.

“Tell me, Lupin,” Severus said with a sniff. “Did you even once suspect them of being in cahoots with each other this last year? Did you even suspect them of even speaking with me outside of class?”

“No,” Lupin answered immediately. “That would be silly, they are…” Lupin stopped, realizing what he had just confirmed.

“Point made,” Severus gestured absently, looking like he was scratching his head.

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances and smirked.

“Albus might come soon. Probably to check up on these two,” Severus motioned. “Go quickly.”

Hermione was suddenly standing on two feet in her human form in a blink of an eye. “Apologies, Professor Snape. I need to make an appearance elsewhere before start checking the dormitory.” She bowed her head slightly.

“I need to make sure sure Crabbe and Goyle don’t blow something up trying not to blow something up,” Draco said with an incline of his head.

Severus signed “Be careful,” but verbally intoned, “Begone.”

The pair flicked their eyes to Lupin and Sirius. “Good day,” they chimed and vanished out to the next room and out the exit portal with Draco taking the lead and Hermione following behind with an automatic disillusionment.

Sirius sank into one of the room chairs. “I’m still letting it all sink in,” he admitted.

Lupin sat beside him in a nearby chair. “I’m just glad no one was hurt by me last night. Everything else is icing.”

“You know Sn… Severus,” Sirius attempted to reprogram his brain to use the man’s name instead of by what he used to call him. Severus seemed perfectly inclined to refer to Sirius as “Mr. Black,” and he really couldn’t blame him. At least “Mr. Black” was civil. Even when Severus was disgusted and just called him “Black” was better than some of the horrible things Sirius was guilty of saying to a number of people back in the day.

Severus was looking at him, eyebrow raised at the incomplete sentence.

“I hope the rumors are wrong,” Sirius finished. “I hope they will not need all the skills you seem to be teaching them. I want Harry to be safe, but…”

Snape moved to leave the room, but paused in the doorway briefly, turning his head to answer Sirius. “Those skills you don’t want them to need saved both of your lives last night.”

Sirius exchanged glances with Remus and then nodded. “I’m still wrapping my mind around… Draco Malfoy.”

Severus arched a brow. “You of all people, Mr. Black, should know what it is like to not fit the mold of your family’s expectations.”

Sirius slumped and then nodded. “Touché,” he conceded.

“Rest while you can,” Snape said as he continued on his way to the next room. “I’m sure the aftermath of the rise and fall of Peter Pettigrew will be haunting you for quite some time before you will go a day without being pestered about it.”

Sirius turned to look at Remus and discovered the werewolf had already fallen asleep in Snape’s armchair. Black found himself feeling a bit drowsy himself. “Well, when in Rome, as the muggles say,” the animagus thought to himself.

Within moments, he too was asleep.


	10. Off to Summer Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Year Three - Almost Summer

Chapter 10: Off to Summer Break

 

“If we’re going to be Professor Lupin’s chaperons, even if he only accidentally changes without his potion, then we need to make sure that he doesn’t go after you too,” Hermione whispered to Draco as she sat studying in the library with him. The had stopped signing their conversation after Crabbe and Goyle had left to rummage the kitchens in their “boredom.” Boredom had become such a useful tool to get rid of them.

Draco nodded, passing over a book and pointing to a passage. Hermione looked it over and shook her head. “Everything seems to point to Wolfsbane potions having to be administered for a whole week prior to change,” Draco said in agreement to her silent shake of the head. “There must be something to make that less… stupidly aggravating.”

Hermione rustled her hair with her hand in a self-comforting gesture, upset that their research was coming up horribly.

Draco, lifting his head to look around to make sure they were not being watched, placed his hand on her head, gently stroking her head as he would if she were in her larger and much less library friendly gryphon form. It was something that his godfather did to soothe and comfort her regardless of what form she was in, and he’d started to mirror such things.

Hermione slumped slightly, eyes half closing.

“Why do you think Pettigrew needed a wand to transform to his rat form?” Draco asked casually. “Severus doesn’t need to. I know Professor McGonagall doesn’t need to, and you definitely never need one.”

Hermione lifted her head as Draco stopped petting it, her eyes still slightly drowsy. “I’m not sure. Severus teaches us that everything we do is about strength of will and intent, with strength of actual power being secondary. Maybe he has intent, but deplorable will? Or maybe he really doesn’t have enough energy without a wand to channel it?”

“Well, he is a rat,” Draco said. “I mean, I know not all rats are dirty and loathsome, but he was a perfect example of the entire dirty rat stereotype.”

Hermione nodded. “He smelled awful when he wasn’t covered in whatever food he coated himself in. I know now that he did that on purpose. Even though he didn’t know I was an animagus, he didn’t want Minerva or any of the familiars to be tipped off.”

“Is that why Crookshanks was always after him?” Draco asked.

“I think so,” Hermione replied. “Somehow, Crooks got a good whiff of him or something… maybe that day Ron accidentally dropped him in the lake. He knew, he just couldn’t tell me with words.”

“And then the weasel ruined the discovery by going all nutters all over you about Crooks eating his rat,” Draco said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“What do you see in that red-headed menace, Hermione?” Draco asked with a shake of his own head.

Hermione gave Draco a look that was both knowing and resigned. “He helped save me from a troll my first year.”

“Oh, that’s just a great reason to have barmy friends,” Draco answered with a quirk of his mouth.

“Prat,” Hermione countered. She snickered into the book in front of her as she passed Draco back his.

Footsteps were coming up the aisle, and the two of them exchanged glances. Draco smiled at her before he let his arrogant mask slide down across his face. His posture went rigid, and he curled his lip into a sneer. “If you think I’m going to share space with a filthy mudblood, then you’re just as stupid as the rest of the Gryffindor waste of space.” Draco grabbed his books and turned on his heels, storming down the aisle like a waterspout.

“Get out of my way, Potter,” Draco spat as the footsteps continued slightly more loudly out of the library.

Harry poked his head around the library shelf. “Thought you’d be here, Hermione,” he said with a smile, only to be shushed by Madam Pince. He looked sheepish and gestured with his head for Hermione to follow him.

Hermione smirked and gathered her books, following the black-haired wizard with amusement.

“Malfoy actually studies?” Harry said conversationally.

“We are in a school, Harry,” Hermione said, whapping him upside the head with her hand.

“True, it’s just hard to see Malfoy studying when he’s so busy ordering people about.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “You make it sound like he’s too arrogant to eat and use the loo like a normal person.”

“He’s normal?” Harry asked.

“Prat!” Hermione echoed from her earlier conversation, this time smacking Harry upside the head with her Mondays with Monkshood book. She normally wasn’t one to abuse her books, but the book was horribly written and even more useless than 101 Uses for Hippogriff Dung.

“Ow,” Harry exclaimed, rubbing his head. “Sorry. Oh. Did you hear?”

“Hrm?” Hermione asked, lifting her eyebrow in a manner that was disturbingly like Snapes.

Harry, slightly unnerved, shook his head. “Professor Lupin is stepping down from his DADA position, but Dumbledore managed to convince him to stay on teaching the History of Magic.”

“That might make the class a bit more tangible,” Hermione commented, recalling the ghostly professor that normally taught the history class.

“I’m just glad he’ll still be around,” Harry said happily. “Sirius says I’ll be able to stay with him if I want to. Just me and him, Hermione. Finally, I won’t have to share space with the Dursleys.”

Hermione smiled. “Anything is an improvement over the Dursley’s, Harry, but I’m glad you’ll be able to get to know your godfather better.”

Harry perked up. “If I’m with Sirius, that means you and Ron can actually visit me over the summer, and I won’t have to worry about getting owls anymore.”

Harry seemed extremely happy about that, and Hermione realized how lucky she was that her muggle parents, muggle they may be, but loving and understanding for their daughter’s sake. Her mother often boggled at how owls could carry such crazy amounts of things, such as a birthday cake Hermione had baked for Harry one year and sent it via owl.

“That will be great, Harry,” Hermione encouraged. “I’m so happy for you.”

The young wizard beamed, and Hermione realized the genuine happiness and treasured care was what endeared her to him. Harry treasured every bit of happiness and care given to him like it was the only bit of either he would ever have. Perhaps now that Sirius was in his life, the unfortunate boy who was forced to live under the staircase would learn that, while good memories were to be treasured, that perhaps they were not as rare as he might think.

Ron, however, she still wasn’t sure what endeared her to Ron. Every time she tried to mentally list positive points, her mental quill just kind of sat there in suspended animation… Surely there was something redeeming she could think of on the spur of the moment? His hair smelled good after a shower? That was hardly a make it or break it positive trait. Draco’s hair smelled good. Severus’ hair smelled downright heavenly due to whatever reason. No, the reason she put up with Ronald Weasley was not coming down to the smell of his hair. “Hi, do you bathe? Great! Let’s be friends!” her mental dialogue spat out. Hermione face-palmed, rubbing the area between her eyes instinctively.

“I have to go help Ron pack up his stuff for the Hogwart’s Express,” Harry complained. “He’s still limping around like a gimp-legged garden gnome from Hagrid’s garden.”

Hermione couldn’t contain a laugh at the image.

“I’ll see you on the path down to the station, ‘kay?” Harry said with a smile. “I wish sometimes I could just ask Snape for a pain reliever like the Slytherin can. Ron would be so much more bearable on the ride back.”

Hermione half choked on air. “Professor Snape, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “I know, I know. I know he’s even tried to save my life. He did it again when I was mentally on vacation trying to chase after Scabbers while a raging werewolf was trying to take off my face… but… he expects too much of me, Hermione. I think when he looks at me, all he sees is my father, and apparently whatever he may have felt for my father wasn’t the type of thing that shares tea together and discusses Quidditch on weekends.”

Hermione coughed into her fist, averting her eyes at that particular mental image. “To be fair, Harry. Everyone that knew you dad seems to think you have your father’s looks.”

“But my mother’s eyes, I know,” Harry groaned, slapping his palm to his forehead. “For once I’d just like to be me. Harry Potter. My own self instead of the shadow of my father everyone seemed to know but me.”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, pulling him into a hug. “You’re not a shade, Harry Potter. You’re my friend. I may not understand what is rattling around in your brain cage half the time, but I’ve come to accept that there are some things you just accept.” She grinned at him.

Harry looked at her strangely before bursting into laughter, hugging her back warmly. “That was odd,” Harry said.

“What was?”

“For a second, it was like something Snape would say,the brain case thing, only, when you say it, I don’t feel like I’m being condemned to detention for the rest of my life just because I’m breathing the same air,” Harry laughed sheepishly, ruffling his own hair.

“Harry Potter,” Hermione huffed, scrunching up her face in perfect form. “And, it’s Professor Snape.”

Harry laughed and waved his hands in appeasement. “Professor Snape,” he placated. “Well I need to go help Ron before he takes out his opposing leg kicking things. See you later!” He smirked and scurried off to the dormitories.

Hermione watched him go and turned to walk down towards the dungeons, automatically stepping into the shadows to cloak her way.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus sat as his desk as he wrote the last of the term’s grades out. A pile of graded notebooks lay on one side of his desk, and a pile of parchments lay on the other. His fingers ran across one of the scrolls with one of his pale fingers. The papers were blissfully passable, for once, and the prospect of having a summer free of the students was appealing. Appealing, at least, in that he would be free of most of the students.

There was a disquiet growing within him. Never before had he questioned being alone during the summer. It was expected, even welcome. Decades came and went the same. Why would it change now or at all?

Then, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, the reason for his disquiet entered his classroom in a swirl of student robes in an almost amusing mirror of her Master’s typical flair. Hermione’s face was both excited for the prospect of summer and distressed in the same prospect.

Severus stood, rising to meet her as she rushed in. She stopped, almost in a skid, in front of him. Her eyes met his as she dropped into a curtsy of permission appeal.

His black eyes met hers with curiosity, but he knew what she was asking. He opened his arm in permission, and she slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into the fabric of his waistcoat.

The moment she embraced him, his eyes closed, and his hand gently pressed against her hair, holding her against him as their scents mingled. The disquiet was gone. At that moment Master and Apprentice were united in contentment.

After what may have been minutes or hours, Hermione stepped back from him. “I will miss you, my Master,” she said with a sad smile. “We’ll be leaving on the train soon. I know you abhor the very idea of going to the station surrounded by dunderheads.”

Severus sniffed, giving her an arched eyebrow. Hermione grinned at him, feeling the amusement in his mind though his face betrayed nothing. He placed his hand upon her head, soothing her hair as he would her feathers. “I have some… light reading for you to study, if you find your summer filled with too much time and not enough challenge,” he said softly.

Hermione tilted her head curiously and perked up.

Severus pulled a book out from his robes. It was a worn book with a faded purple cover. A cauldron was emblazoned on the front, and the title was written around the wisp of vapour coming from the cauldron. Advanced Potion Making. The binding was well worn as well, and it looked like it had seen better days. He placed the book in her hands, eyes expressionless.

Hermione touched the cover respectfully, running her fingers along the pages with the kind of respect one would pay for the founding documents of a country rather than an old textbook. Hermione smelled the pages, taking in the scent of the parchment and… her Master’s distinct scent. “This is yours, my Master?” she said a little awed.

“Take care of it,” Severus said softly. “It has been… through a long history.”

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She glomped her Master’s waist yet again, smashing her face into his side and basking in his presence in a manner no one else would dare, save perhaps Draco when he was feeling particularly uncharacteristically emotional. She pulled away a bit sheepishly, a small tear ran down the length of her nose, and she sniffed with a bit of her emotions still plastered across her face.

“Stupid girl,” Severus crooned, wiping her tear away with his thumb. “I will see you when term resumes, my Apprentice. Study well.”

“I will, Master,” she said warmly, giving him a genuine smile as she tucked the old book into her robe. She turned to go, before her feet refused to allow her altogether.

“Top shelf, third across from the door. Blue bottle,” Severus said as she began to walk.

Hermione turned back and arched her brow back at her Master.

“Unless you prefer to listen to Weasley groan and moan all the way back to London,” Severus said with a wave of his hand.

Hermione beamed at him and fetched the pain potion from the back shelves. She clutched it in her hand and smiled at it. She gave Severus a bow with a warmth both in her eyes and her mind to his. “Enjoy you summer, my Master. Thank you.” And with that, she turned and vanished out the door with a swirl of her robes.

Severus watched the space she had just vacated in silence.

:Be safe, my Apprentice,: Severus whispered to her mind.

:Always,: she replied to him instantly, the warmth of her mental voice echoed the warmth of the hug she had given him only a few minutes before.

At that moment Severus Snape thanked whatever gods were looking out for him the night he was crazy enough to ask Hermione Granger to be his apprentice. He also thanked the very same gods that the foolish girl had accepted.

Severus walked out into the corridor and closed his classroom door, locking it and warding it with automation due to repeated practice. He walked down to the Slytherin Common Room to stir up his snakes to get to the train on time. It would be snowing in July before he allowed his House to miss the Hogwart’s Express. As he walked through the entrance portal into the Common Room, wide eyes met his as they turned their gazes down respectfully. While they did not fear him like the other Houses of Hogwarts, the Slytherin did not knowingly wish to piss him off either.

As the students fluttered around him in a flurry of packing, the part of Severus that remembered why he liked lonely summers came back to the surface. The corner of his mouth quirked slightly.

“Your trunk is not going to pack itself, Mr. Raffordy,” Severus said lowly, “and your owl is not the lamppost you are looking for.”

The student who was holding his owl by the legs turned red and set the owl down on the nearby chair. The disgruntled owl started pecking the poor boy mercilessly. Poor, was decidedly the wrong term, as Severus was pretty sure Raffordy deserved every bit of owl peckery that he as getting.

Draco glowered down at Raffordy with disgust. “What’s wrong with you, Raffordy? Did someone _confundo_ you?”

Draco shot his godfather a look of weariness before going back to herd first years around with sharp words and glares.

Yes… some peace and quiet wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.

 


	11. Summer Year Three : Death Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quidditch World Cup is party crashed by Death Eaters.

Chapter 11: Death Eaters

Summer came and went much like seasons do. It poured rain one moment, baked all the next, then mixed together in some sort of humidity that did terrible things to hair. Hermione Granger was not a fan of the humidity. She wasn't sure if her hair loved it or truly hated it either.

The end of summer was also signaled by the Quidditch World Cup and the first introduction to a port-key, at least on paper. She wasn't sure who put the original charms and spells on the boot that carried them to the game, but she was pretty sure whoever did had been drinking heavily before doing so. When Severus had taught Draco and herself to create and use port-keys, never once did their nubile attempts had they ported in mid air and have to fall the way down. What drunken idiot sets a waypoint above where you wanted to be so you can break something on your way down?

Hermione "sneezed" a spell into the air as they fell downward, wandlessly and temporarily turning the ground into a marshmallow consistency just enough to cushion their fall and turn back into dirt. She reminded herself to thank Draco for that particular spell. Apparently it was something the Slytherin Quidditch team used to keep themselves from breaking their necks when falling off their brooms. She was tempted to tell Harry about it with his propensity to throw himself against unyielding ground in the name of Quidditch, but apparently it was a Slytherin spell. She wasn't about to spill Slytherin secrets like that to Harry. Harry would tell everyone, or rather, he would tell Ron, who would be sworn to secrecy. So, obviously, shortly after that, everyone in Hogwarts would know. There were times when Hermione admired Slytherin for being able to keep their secrets close.

When she had asked Draco why he was sharing such a spell with her, a blatant Gryffindor, he gave her such a disgusted look. "You're like family, idiot," he snorted. "You're Slytherin by proxy. You're so Slytherin, no one but me and Severus know it."

She had pondered that bit of odd logic and wondered if that made him Gryffindor by proxy, he scoffed at her and said it didn't work that way.

"That's hardly fair," Hermione had mumbled.

"Life isn't fair," he had answered, just before he had shoved a tasty mini cheesecake pasty into her mouth.

Between the cheesecake and knowing Draco would not budge on his opinion over it, she munched on it and kept her mouth shut. Boys. She was doomed to be surrounded in testosterone and boy-logic.

Joking aside, however, much like every other secret she kept, she kept Slytherin's secrets locked away in her head as well. The only things she ever let out were the things she gleaned from students silly enough to say things when she was in earshot. That was knowledge fairly gained, and even Draco congratulated her on such feats. Draco had, much as she did, kept her secrets as close as the others he had.

As Hermione peeled herself off the ground and helped Harry and Ron up, the roar of the Quidditch World Cup swallowed them up.

The tent, she could tell easily, was the perfect example of why Harry loved magic. The small canvas wedge tent, which Fred and George could barely fit in without folding themselves over, opened up into a grand living space. The moment she saw how wondrous it was herself, her mind raced with different ideas like charming a bag to hold her books and supplies. That would be useful, indeed.

Cedric Diggory was a tall, handsome sort, and seeing him with his father brought a smile to her face. She could tell his father loved him greatly, and his son adored his father all the same. Fred and George seemed to be holding a Quidditch related grudge against him, but Hermione just rolled her eyes. Most things Quidditch were about as interesting as watching Hagrid try to find "something" in his hut that he could have "sworn was right here give minutes ago." Draco had tried to enthuse her a little to the game, but short of now knowing the rules and knowing when people were sucking very badly, it didn't really interest her any better.

The socializing was exhausting, but she had to admit it was quite the experience. There were so many people spread out over the moors, and all of them came from so many walks of life. At one point, however, the seating had to be sorted out, and the seating put them close to none other than the Malfoy family.

Tensions would have been raised even if there hadn't been bad history between the Weasleys and the Malfoy family, but it only took Lucius' curled lip of disgust as he stared down his nose at them to prove where Draco had modeled his perfect picture of pure-blood arrogance. His mother, while not as blatant about it, seemed to be trying to ignore them as one would "the staff."

"Missed you," Draco signed, making it look like he was staring at Harry with disgust.

"Missed you too," Hermione replied, pretending to comb her hair with her fingers. Having untameable hair did have some advantages.

"Be careful tonight," Draco warned. "Dad up to something."

"Thanks," she signed, wondering what could be going down in a place so blatantly public.

The game started, and she and Draco conversed as they "cheered" for the teams. Draco wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen, but his father was "happy," and that alone was a tip off that it was probably horrible, involved stomping on non-pure-bloods, and would probably end in flames and spell flinging.

After the game, the crowds were wild with celebration. It didn't even seem to matter who won in the end, as everyone was celebrating something. By the time she was sequestered in a tent with Ginny by Mrs. Weasley, she was very tired, but she didn't forget Draco's warning.

When she was sure Ginny was asleep, which thankfully had started from her passing out at the table with her hot chocolate, Hermione was casting wards over the youngest female Weasley so she was easily overlooked by anyone but her family and a few choice friends like Harry and herself. Without being able to see directly into the tent the boys were gathered in, she mumbled general wards around the text and very carefully envisioned each Weasley as she threw wards over them too. The wards were complex, but Draco and she had practiced them under Severus' guidance backwards, forwards, and diagonally until they could ward the classroom or each other with the barest of movements and softest of whispers. They hadn't quite figured out silent casting of the complex wards, yet, but what she had would have to do.

Her eyes had finally drifting closed with the explosions started. Two instincts warred with each other. Protect and disappear. Protect who she cared about or do reconnaissance. When Arthur and Molly came out yelling for Ginny and her to get out and to safety, she leapt up, immediately tucking her wand into an easily guarded but safe place and that she had something thrown over her night clothes to preserve at least some of her modesty.

Fortunate or not, the choice on either protection or reconnaissance was taken out of her hands as the adults herded them all back towards the port-key's location. The chaos was literally raining down from the sky to blow things up below. Fires were everywhere, and black-clad figures were swarming the grounds with the blackest of cloaks and skull-like masks upon their faces.

In the chaos both in the sky and below, she was separated from the group. People were swarming into the woods and running out of them, the dark figures seemed to focused on stirring up the panic as much as possible.

As she people screamed and ran around her, a dark figure was approaching, tall against the fires that blazed around her. A gold and silver mask covered the face under an intimidating hood. Fear rippled through her, and awakened her animagus senses. She clenched her teeth, feeling her fingers beginning to stretch into talons. But at the cusp of change, the wind shifted and his scent came to her like a slap to the face as the chaos in her mind settled and her Master's familiar presence washed over her.

:To me,: he ordered, and all the fight in Hermione Granger was swapped into obedience. She closed the distance, running towards him as his arm opened for her, and she slammed into him, allowing his dark robes to enfold her like the closing of curtains. :Be still,: he commanded.

She felt the yank as Severus apparated them both to a different location.

He drew a black cloak around her shoulders and it swirled around her like a living thing. He lifted her chin up to look at his skull-like face and his hand descended upon her face with a mask, clicking it into place over her face which seemed to make the metal fuse into her face completely.

:Walk beside me,: he ordered. :Occlude everything. Do not run. Stand as though you are entitled. Walk, as though the ground yields to you alone:

Hermione stood up straight and shoved all her thoughts into the far reaches of her mind. Her mind focused on the shape of Severus' mask and the presence he exuded as he stormed through the camp.

He led her through the burning camp. She walked beside him with her head held high. He kept her wrapped in his presence, his mind held open the channel between them, allowing her take comfort in both his physical and mental touch.

Dark figures swarmed around her, but marched off into other directions, yelling and barking orders to each other under the cover of chaos. Apparently, she was doing something correctly, because a few of the figures bowed their heads as she passed.

The walk through the burning camp continued until they reached the opposite side, where the fires were not burning as brightly. The forest edge was dark, and it was more silent than the one on the opposite side. They stopped in the trees, where there presence was concealed by the foliage.

Severus removed the mask from her face and took the dark robe from her shoulders. :Stay here. The Weasleys will find their way here eventually. You must be here when they do. Your wards will keep them safe, and I adjusted them to guide them here. Now, I must keep you safe.: His pale hand rested on her head and she felt the warmth as his wards descended upon her layer by later.

:Thank you, Master,: she said, her hand touching his dark robes. She looked into his masked face without fear; her trust in him remained unshakable.

:Only you, my Apprentice: Severus whispered into her mind, :could look at this, and be comforted.: He touched her cheek briefly. :Stay low, and remain unseen until you know the Weasleys are near. Are we clear?:

:Crystal, my Master: she replied.

:Good. The port-key is over the ridge from where it was. Look to the west," he replied, turning and striding back into the fire and smoke with what was possibly an even more intimidating presence than he bestowed upon the students of Hogwarts.

Hermione sat down with her back against the nearby tree. Her orders were to remain until the Weasleys found her, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Her questions would be answered later.

She closed her eyes and kept her thoughts blank, letting her meditation carry her her into the calmness that her environment was not.


	12. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione find it good to be back "home" at Hogwarts.  
> Harry ends up in the Tournament.

**Chapter 12: Relief**

Draco Malfoy took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he saw the Golden Trio making their way off the Hogwart’s Express. After his father’s almost ecstatic mood upon the panic and disarray caused by the Death Eaters having made their appearance at the Quidditch World Cup, he was pretty sure his father was absolutely off his rocker. It wasn’t the kind of insanity that was detrimental to function, or something that could get him sent to St. Mungo’s to share space with the Longbottoms, but it was definitely something that set his teeth on edge.

Hermione stood with Potter and the weasel as they waited for the horseless carriages to fill up enough to take off. It was starting to rain, making everyone look quite miserable.

Ronald had his robes draped over an owl cage that seemed to contain an owl that was crossbred with a snitch. The owl was flying around as if trying to dodge raindrops, making a fuss that seemed to annoy not only the people around but also Hedwig, who was looking about ready to murder the smaller owl with her gaze alone.

Hermione was channeling Severus, Draco noted with amusement. She was standing perfectly still in the rain with a somber expression on her face. Her only movement was the flick of her eyes from one place to another, or one person or another. Each year that passed, whatever strange magic that bound the two together drew tighter, binding Master and Apprentice in a way that those that knew them both as he did, found completely undeniable. There were times Draco had felt jealous of it, but the development of the sign language they had customized made such irritating emotions less and less. And Severus’ insistent drilling in both mind, body, and both mounted and non had given him a sort of communication with them both that was close enough to be tangible.

With the addition of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin into the inner circle of their eclectic group, Draco had no idea how the training would change, or if Black and Lupin would remain on the fringes, simply offering support in other ways. He had a feeling that their job would be to assist Potter in any way they could without giving away anything about Severus, Draco, or Hermione. They had to be the ones to teach Potter and get him to listen. The stubborn wizard would probably never listen Severus, would definitely not listen to Draco, and seemed to think that Hermione just made things up and spewed things out of book randomly… even if it was in the most caring manner possible.

Mind you, Draco knew, that neither Severus, himself, or Hermione had really given Harry their true face. Then again, he supposed it was only Hermione or himself that would ever give Harry a face to see. Severus would barely change his expression to the people that knew him, let alone to one unfortunate wizard boy that had both the luck and the curse of having survived his childhood.

Crabbe and Goyle were grumbling about the rain and being wet. Draco introduced them to an umbrella. First by smacking them over the head with it and second by opening it up and telling them to hold it over themselves. Then, now that the raindrops weren’t soaking them, they complained that the sound of the rain on the umbrella was annoying. They were bloody annoying. He resisted the impulse to smash their heads down like his godfather dealt with chatty students in his study halls.

Draco tilted his head, going through his mental list of Slytherin traits and then Crabbe and Goyle. Traditionalism? Yeah, well… if elitism qualified as tradition, that was a positive. Resourcefulness… if finding 102 different ways to sneak into the kitchen to raid the food pantry counted, then check there. Cunning or cleverness? He wasn’t even sure Goyle could read, let alone be cunning or clever. Ambition… okay, well they did have that.

Draco rubbed the area between his eyes and then stopped, realizing what he had done. He wasn’t sure anymore if he was channeling Hermione or Severus when he did that, but he was pretty sure the action was a contagious thing, and he wasn’t even close to being immune.

Draco watched in amusement as the first year students were led off by Hagrid to the boats. What positively nasty weather to be taking boats to Hogwarts. The view was stunning, there was no mistake, but the misty rain that was covering the area in a gray haze was hardly scenic. Sitting in a wet boat? Blech.

Hermione had pulled her hood over her head, causing the rain to trickle down her student robes. The water repelling charm he had practiced on her robes was apparently working just fine, much to Crookshank’s approval. The orange fuzzball was nestled in Hermione’s lap and under the protection of her robe as if one raindrop would eat through his fur and burn him alive.

Draco pulled his hood up, finally irritated by the feel of the raindrops in his hair. The charm Hermione had placed on his robes seemed to be working just fine as well, unlike his House-mates’ robes, which looked like water logged cats hanging off their shoulders. Ronald Weasley looked pretty water-logged and irritated as well, and apparently Hermione hadn’t used Harry as a water-repelling charm victim either.

Finally, the carriages were starting to move, and Draco and a handful of his House-mates settled in for a slightly damp ride back to Hogwarts. Hot chocolate sounded absolutely stellar, and maybe if Hermione and he sneaked out in time, Severus would make them his special hot chocolate recipe. Novel idea. Now all he had to do was find a way to ditch his two escorts and make it happen. Hot chocolate was involved. It would happen. It was only a matter of when.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus Snape found himself in a very difficult position.

As he sat on what had become the communal, if one could consider three specific people a community, couch, Severus was sitting with his tea in hand and Draco and Hermione fast asleep across his lap. The book he was reading was resting across Draco’s back as he hogged Snape’s lap. Hermione was curled into his side like a cat curling up next to a warm hearth, snuggling into his dark robes like it was the most natural place in the world to be sleeping. Even Draco was half covered by the other half of his robe, snoring softly. There was no way he was going to get up without waking them. Such a bother.

The reunion had been… therapeutic. The three of them settled back in with each other with the feeling of a rediscovered symbiosis, finding comfort in each other’s presence as though they were coming home after a long journey.

Draco’s suggestion for hot chocolate had amused him. As his apprentice and godson snickered at each other as the foaming chocolate got all over their faces, it was a time of comfort in a rapidly encroaching time of strain. It was such a strange thing, this formed peace and comfort. Severus wasn’t the most experienced in either, yet, it seemed like he was gaining it by leaps and bounds through his godson and his ever stalwart Apprentice. Both of them had such a strange faith in him. It was that faith that drove him onward more powerfully than the orders of Albus or the Dark Lord had ever been. They believed in him… and that alone was a motivator that was far more powerful to Snape.

Severus put up his book with a yawn. He placed his hands on his godson and his Apprentice with a gentle touch. “Time to get to your dormitories before you’re noticed missing.”

“Awww…” Draco groaned.

“Do we have to?” Hermione mumbled, snuggling in closer to his warmth.

Severus shook his head and then stood up, forcing the pair to sit up and rub their eyes. “Be careful on your way out. We have guests in the castle, and who knows which of them will be wandering around getting lost.”

Draco and Hermione looked unimpressed by the reminder that Hogwarts had guests.

“It’s not like most of us can even compete,” Draco yawned. “The goblet will only accept our names if we are seventeen.”

Severus shook his head. “The Tournament is exceedingly dangerous. It would be… unwise for most of those your age to participate.”

Draco and Hermione gave him a long-suffering look.

Snape arched an eyebrow. “I said most. As it is…” Snape turned his gaze up towards the ceiling. “I have a bad feeling about the Tournament being hosted here after the situation at the Quidditch World Cup and Hermione’s reports of Harry’s nightmares.”

“What is he dreaming about?” Draco asked curiously, having only just heard of it.

Hermione turned her gaze to Severus and he nodded, waving his hand towards the bookshelf to expose the hidden pensieve. She placed her wand to her head, pulling a strand of her own memories out with it and flinging it into the pensieve.

Draco looked at her strangely.

“He’s been having nightmares almost constantly since I met up with him over the summer. He had them pretty intensely just before we all ported to the Quidditch World Cup. After about the tenth time he woke up screaming, I saw the fresh memories of the nightmare in his mind,” Hermione explained. “He really doesn’t have a lick of shields. I walked right into his nightmare, and I didn’t even mean to.”

“The dream is always the same?” Severus asked.

Hermione nodded. “Exactly.”

“That’s disturbing,” Draco said. “Well here goes,” he sighed and dove into the pensieve.

“Your hands are cold,” Severus commented, watching Hermione rubbing her hands together. He took her hands in his and rubbed them in his, lifting her hands up in his to blow on them.

Hermione shivered a little. “I get cold sometimes. Ironic considering I emit heat like a furnace as a gryphon.”

He clasped her hands in his and shook his head, muttering about stupid girls. His expression was peaceful, a quirk of the cover of his mouth caused Hermione to smile at him.

Draco pulled his head out of the pensieve with a shake of his head. “Well that was horrible.”

Hermione nodded as she rubbed her hands together brisky and sighed. “Yeah, and other than it scares me, I have no idea what to think about it yet.”

Severus placed a hand on her shoulder. “We will discuss this later. For now, bed for the both of you. Tomorrow, meet me at night on the knoll. We begin your apparition lessons.”

Draco and Hermione smiled and nodded.

“Goodnight, Master,” Hermione said as she turned on her heels and vanished out the portal.

“Goodnight, Severus,” Draco said, following Hermione out.

“Goodnight,” Snape replied quietly as he watched them disappear out his chamber portal.

-o-o-o-o-o—o-o-

“The Weasley boys gave this to Harry last term,” Lupin explained as he handed the parchment over to Hermione. “It would be trouble for you, Draco, and Severus if he were to get his hands on it again.”

Hermione ran her hand across the Marauder’s Map with a little respect for its history. “Thank you, Professor Lupin,” Hermione replied. “It means a lot to us.”

“Hermione,” the werewolf chuckled. “Call me Remus. At least when we’re not in class. We’ve been through too much to be Professor Lupin and Miss Granger every day.”

Hermione grinned. “Thank you, Remus. I was wondering how Draco and I were going to avoid Harry if he had the map, especially since we tend to hide out in Professor Snape’s quarters.”

Remus chuckled. “Now that is something I never thought I’d hear from anyone, Hermione, but why do you call Severus by his title, when you are obviously just as close as Draco is to him now?”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “I cannot allow myself to slip, Remus,” she said quietly. “Not that anyone would believe I was his Apprentice, but we cannot take that chance… and there are many students in Slytherin with connections to very unsavory people.”

Remus sighed. “True enough,” he agreed. He looked down as he pondered something. “Sirius has finally managed to clean out and restore some of the former livability of his place on Grimmauld. It’s well protected and warded. Padfoot thinks it’ll be ready for Harry to move in just in time for Christmas Break. Kind of a Merry Christmas present.”

“That’s wonderful, Remus!” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “He’ll be so happy to be out of the Dursley’s place. Did you know that Mr. Weasely had to go fetch him towards the end of summer from the Dursleys? They accidentally flooed in and the Dursley’s had the floo sealed off because they had a muggle electric stove now.”

Remus laughed. “I heard the story from Arthur. I’m glad you all got to see the game before that mess with the Death Eaters sacking the place.”

Hermione sighed, “It was a mess, definitely.”

“Harry gave me the whole story,” Remus said with a shake of his head. “He said he was knocked down to the ground a few times by the panicked crowd. Padfoot was fit to be tied that he was forced to go on that particular day to clear up some issue with the Ministry. I’m not sure what he was more upset about… Harry being in danger and he not being there to help or missing the game.”

Hermione made a pfffting sound as her snorted a laugh. “Well, he did spend twelve years in Azkaban, so I imagine in his mind, he doesn’t want to miss anything else, good or bad.”

The werewolf laughed. “True,” he agreed. “I just hope he doesn’t try to rub his love for skirt chasing on Harry.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Lupin admitted.

Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. One more fact that she could have gone an entire lifetime without knowing. Gladly. She offered him a meek smile, instead.

“Do thank Severus for the taste numbing potion, by the way,” Lupin added. “It makes downing the wolfsbane far less… like drinking burning tar with a chaser of sulfur.”

The gryphon animagus laughed. “I will tell him.”

“Hermione,” Lupin began. “I realize my opinion on the matter may be skewed due to our shared history but… Severus has never been, even when we were younger, one to share knowledge. The fact that he is willing to…”

Hermione looked at Lupin with puzzlement.

“You are an amazing witch, Hermione,” Lupin said. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Hermione gave him a genuine smile.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione and Harry watched Professor Moody take Neville back up the stairs for “tea and conversation” with concerned expressions on their face. The day’s lesson was, while informative, disturbing to the extreme. Hermione had put her best affronted and inexperienced face on in “discovering” the curses for the first time, but she and Draco had learned of them long ago in order to learn how to shake off the effects. Save for the killing curse, which was all about not being in the way of it, that particular nasty curse required a different sort of learning.

Neville, whose parents had been tortured into insanity by the Cruciatus curse, had looked more than a little bit haunted by the lessons. Hermione wasn’t sure how many people knew that about Neville’s family, but Draco had told her the story. His aunt had been one of the ones responsible—a witch by the name of Bellatrix LaStrange. Bellatrix, Draco told her, was certifiably insane, a confirmed Death Eater, and currently in Azkaban. He hoped, and she had agreed, that she remained there indefinitely.

When the entire drama with the Tri-Wizard Champions went down, Hermione had pinched the bridge of her nose at the exact same time as her Master’s fingers went to his. Dumbledore’s calling of Harry’s name with the kind of fury she had never seen the kindly older wizard give off until then echoed the cries of outrage and disbelief of many present. It was unfair that he had been named the 4th Champion of the Tri-wizard Tournament. It was the Tri-Wizard Tournament, after all, not the Quad-Wizard Tournament. Harry… only Harry could get himself tangled up in such a mess without even trying.

Draco gave Hermione a look as she finished rubbing the area between her eyes furiously. “One year without drama,” Draco signed. “Just one. Please?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not possible,” she replied.

Draco shook his head back. “Did he do it?”

Hermione frowned. “Never,” she signed back. “Avoided Goblet like pox.”

The Slytherin nodded, blowing his hair out of his face. “What could get past the enchants?”

Hermione furrowed her brows, thinking. “Confundus charm, perhaps.”

Draco curled his lip. “Risky,” he signed back. “Artifact. Not easy.”

Ron chose that moment to burst into a chain of curses involving Harry hoodwinking the Goblet of Fire without telling his best friend and some other such nonsense about hogging all the attention.

:Meet tonight, my quarters,: came Severus’ mind voice, breaking up Ron’s tirade in her head. :Relay to Draco.:

“Yes, Master: she replied immediately, signaling Draco with one hand as she shoved Ron to get him to stop blabbering garbage.

“Affirmative,” Draco answered, smacking Crabbe over the head for making oogly-eyes at one of the visiting students from Beauxbatons.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Dumbledore wants Moody watching over him,” Severus said as he pointed to a mistake in Draco’s homework, causing Draco to scoff and re-dip his quill to correct it.

“The man is… strange,” Hermione confessed. “I am not sure what to make of him.”

“He has not always been quite so… strange,” Severus replied, pointing to a place on Hermione’s parchment with a lifted brow. “I do want the both of you to keep an eye on him, however.”

Hermione slumped, grabbed her quill, and started correcting her parchment as well.

Severus was grading a stack of parchments of his own, taking time here and there to oversee over Hermione and Draco’s homework essays. He sipped his tea every so often, barely lifting his head as they made conversation over their work.

“Potter, despite whatever proclivity he has for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, is not the type to throw his name into Goblet of Fire in some bid for more scrutiny,” Severus commented. “Yes, somehow, his name was put into the Goblet, past both its heavy enchantments and Dumbledore’s age-line.”

“Fred and George tried to hoodwink the age line,” Hermione said as she quilled out some equations. “It did not end well.”

Draco shook his head. “That must have been comical.”

“They had white beards and gray hair,” Hermione replied. “It was pretty comical, but then they started beating on each other, so I went back to reading my book.”

“Is there anything more interesting than books to you, Hermione?” Draco chuckled.

“Potions,” Hermione answered without looking up from her parchment.

Draco looked up and gave Severus a glare. “You’ve done corrupted her, Uncle.”

“I hardly see this as a problem,” Severus said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why couldn’t you corrupt her with a like for Quidditch?” Draco asked.

Severus pursed his mouth to the side. “Not likely.”

“Bah,” Draco scoffed, going back to his parchment.

Hermione traced a pattern on her parchment, and a flash of magic spread over it, outlining a pattern that formed into a goldfish that swam across her parchment.

Draco traced a pattern on his, and a bird fluttered across his parchment.

Both of them seemed relieved to be finished with their parchments, setting their heads down on the table they were sharing with Severus.

Severus smirked as he finished up the last of his grading. “I must patrol. Everyone out.”

Draco and Hermione yawned and gathered their books and parchments. Both of them sleepily shuffled to his side and waited, heads down.

Severus rolled his eyes and opened his arms, allowing the two of them to shuffle into him in what had become a strangely normal group hug. They had somehow become much more physically clingy since their return to Hogwarts this particular year. Gently, he placed his hands on each of their heads. “Good night,” he said with a sniff.

The pair of them shuffled off with a “Goodnight,” with Severus shaking his head as he watched them go. Who would ever believe that the greasy git of the dungeons, resident dungeon bat, and Master of Bastard Feng-shui had anyone that he not only allowed to touch him but actually sought out his touch? Surely not the majority of the students and staff of Hogwarts, that was for sure. Not even his Slytherin students would take the liberty of even daring to assume they could touch their Head of House in any manner, casual or otherwise.

He was fine with keeping that particular secret. It was a secret worth keeping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Relaxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione indulges in a bit of relaxation at the expense of Severus' carpet.  
> Snape sends Draco and Hermione out to fetch gillyweed.

Chapter 13: Relaxing

Dragons… why Harry always end up mixed up in things that would try their hardest to kill him?

Hermione collapsed in the middle of Severus’ chambers with a four-legged thud and exhale of relief that was thick enough to be tangible. She rubbed herself into the shaggy rug that smelled of parchments and Severus, countless herbs, and his favourite tea.

Her beak snapped in the empty air as a low groan escaped her throat. She smothered herself all over the rug until its scent was embedded in her feathers and fur. She flipped her wings in and out, flapping them as she rolled, kicking her legs in and out as she writhed on her back against the carpet, careful not to extend herself too far out and knock over any of the furniture.

With a rumbling purr that ended in a series of chuckling chirps, Hermione flopped in a pile of fur and feathers, breathing deeply as her nostrils flared, and she enjoyed the peace of her Master’s quarters.

Her eyes had just drifted closed when a hand gently pressed against her head feathers. She opened her eyes and met her Master’s dark eyes.

“Tired, my Apprentice?” he asked softly.

Hermione chirped softly, rubbing her beak against his hand when he stopped petting.

His eyes softened as he stroked the line of her beak and down her neck. “You did well today,” he said as he soothed her feathers. “At least now the dragons will be meeting their champions tomorrow as they should be instead of dosed up with Enraging Potion.” Severus scratched under her chin. “I fear the Hungarian Horntail will be trouble, regardless of its less drugged state. Knowing Harry’s luck… that will be his dragon to defeat.”

Hermione chirped, clacking her beak, laying her head in his lap.

“Someone has been stealing boomslang skin and lacewing flies from my stores,” Severus commented. “Deja vu.”

Hermione turned her eyes upward to look him in the face.

“I know it wasn’t you, my Apprentice,” Snape snorted. “However, the fact remains someone broke into my highly warded stores and took ingredients for polyjuice potions. The questions are why and who.”

Hermione took his hand into her beak and sent him a mental image.

Severus smirked and pulled his hand free. “I will not post you inside my storage room to guard my potion ingredients,” he said dryly.

“That does remind me, however, my gillyweed jar is empty,” he said. “I need you and Draco to fetch me some before the freeze.”

The gryphon gave a grunt of compliance and flicked her tail back and forth to whap into Severus’ side.

“Is there a particular reason that you are rolling around on my floor like a giant overgrown cat?” Severus asked with amusement.

Hermione chirped cutely at him.

“Mmmhmm,” he grunted. “I’ll believe that when Ronald Weasley stops stuffing his face like the Wizarding equivalent to a Muggle garbage disposal.”

Hermione gave a low rumbling chuckle, clattering her beak in her amusement.

Severus quirked the edges of his mouth in the closest to a smile that he came to. “Insufferable know-it-all,” he said softly, rubbing her her chin with his long and elegant fingers.

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed from his ministrations.

After what may have been minutes or hours, Hermione opened her eyes. Severus hadn’t moved, seemingly content to sit with her by the fire without the need to say anything more. Her inner time sense told her that it was around the time to reunite with her House mates for dinner before they went looking for her and didn’t find her.

Ron was being a righteous prat to be around thanks to his blaming Harry for taking the supposed spotlight, Ginny was being a bit clingy for whatever reason, and Harry was utterly convinced that even Hedwig was out to punish him for being in the Tournament. All of the above didn’t make her any more excited about returning to the Gryffindor Common Room. She could only hope that once Ron realised that the Tournament was potentially lethal that he, and all the other people pissed at Harry for his “cheating” the Goblet of Fire, would stop being such horrible examples of House solidarity and friends in general.

A knock at Severus’ portal door caused a flurry of instant response without a word being said. Both she and Severus leapt off the middle of his severely rolled on rug, occlumency shields went up in force, Hermione shed her gryphon form in a great flap of her her wings, Severus slammed disillusionment upon her even as she pulled it around herself in synchronisation, and he went to the exit portal to answer the knock.

As door opened, Hermione slipped out unnoticed by the random Slytherin student who was either brave enough or desperate enough to seek her Head of House’s council at this random hour.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You look absolutely exhausted, Hermione,” Ginny observed as she passed down the mashed potatoes.

“Thanks, Ginny,” Hermione said with a smirk as she dished the food onto her plate.

Ginny leaned her head onto Hermione’s shoulder with a grin. “I’m just worried about you. You’ve been kind of caught in between Ron and Harry’s row for a week now. It can’t be easy.”

Hermione gave her a tired smile. Harry and Ron weren’t even at dinner yet, which concerned her somewhat, but part of her was secretly relieved.

Ginny had an odd look on her face. “Did Snape give you another detention?”

“Professor Snape, Ginny,” Hermione corrected automatically. “And when doesn’t Professor Snape give me detention for my ‘insufferable impertinence,” Ginny?”

“True enough,” Ginny agreed. “I think you’re the only person who spends more time being punished by Snape than Harry. Maybe you should… stop trying to help him during potions class. Give yourself a breather.”

Hermione smirked. “I’d still get it trying to help Neville.”

Ginny slumped, realising she hadn’t thought of that. “True. Eugh. But… I feel bad for you, Hermione. You even smell like herbs from potions class anymore.”

“Ginevra Weasley,” Hermione intoned in a manner that reminded Ginny of both her mother and one of her professors, “are you accusing me of stinking?”

Ginny waved her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m just saying… oh bugger, I have no idea what I’m trying to say.” Ginny looked at her appealingly. “I think Snape has it out for you more than even Neville Longbottom. At least he sends Neville to detention with someone else.”

Hermione’s eyebrow lifted into her hair in spite of herself. It took a great amount of conscious effort to stifle her automatic rubbing the area between her eyes.

“What does he make you do all the time?” Ginny asked curiously. “I bet it’s horrible… like peeling bug carapaces or squeezing shrivelfigs until your hands turn into prunes.”

Hermione must have given Ginny a look that reminded her of Severus, because she gulped and tried to distract herself by eating her food furiously.

Severus had always been very careful when he assigned detentions that overlapped with “detentions” for Hermione. To outside observers, Hermione was being punished to the extreme by being forced to finely chop potion ingredients, extract juice, stew lacewing flies or mandrake, randomly sort bat fangs, or other such horrible monotonous tasks. But, Hermione was always sorting, keeping inventory, and preparing the ingredients needed for their potion work. It was her job, as his apprentice, and there was nothing remotely punitive about it to her. But for the rest of the students of Hogwarts, anything Professor Snape gave them to do was unquestionably torturous. It was the perfect cover, and it also served to garner a certain amount of sympathy from her fellow Gryffindor and appease the more nasty Slytherin who wanted to see ‘those like her’ punished. Win-win situation, even if the only people who knew it were few and far between.

A gaggle of female students were following one of the visiting students from Durmstrang, giggling in an annoying manner. Hermione shot her head up to look at what was causing the ruckus, and her eyes met with the Bulgarian Seeker. The older boy, seemingly unimpressed with his entourage, gave her a kind, yet brief, look as he walked past. Despite Durmstrang’s reputation, it seemed that the students were not necessarily as biased as Hogwarts’ Slytherin House against Muggle-borns. It wasn’t like everyone in Slytherin was a blatant bigot, either, but Hermione knew the history of Salazar Slytherin too well to think blood didn’t have a big factor in the sortings to his House. Even Draco couldn’t show his true feelings, lest word get back to his father that he wasn’t being “proper.”

Durmstrang students, even with their obvious bias to pure-bloods in their school, did not seem to extend that bias to inter-school relations, which was surprisingly refreshing.

“I think Ron wants Viktor Krum’s autograph in a bad way,” Ginny noted with a giggle. “Pity all of Durmstrang sits with the Slytherin. As if being from Durmstrang isn’t intimidating enough.”

Hermione mulled over if the students from Durmstrang were truly intimidating. Focused, undoubtedly. Their Headmaster seemed quite ruthless in his own right, yet Hermione saw quite a bit of practiced skill over intimidation. Perhaps knowledge and practice was intimidating in its own way.

“I hope Harry doesn’t miss dinner,” Hermione said to make conversation.

Ginny shook her head. “Professor Moody pulled him aside after some dispute with Malfoy in the courtyard,” Ginny filled Hermione in.

“Is he okay?” Hermione asked, privately wondering what Draco had gotten himself into in regards to Harry.

“Draco pulled his wand on Harry’s back,” Ginny whispered. “Professor Moody transfigured him into a ferret and bounced him up and down in front of the whole courtyard. Professor McGonagall had to break it up.”

Hermione pulled her jaw up from the ground. “Wow.”

“It’s great, right? Malfoy deserved it,” Ginny said with a giggle. “People are calling him the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut, torn between a laugh and the need figure out more about the strange behavior of Professor Moody. Transfigure a student as punishment? What kind of Professor does that kind of thing? Perhaps… the kind that also demonstrates Unforgivables to his entire DADA class. Getting close to Moody would be difficult. She had a feeling that his magical eye was an artifact of some sort or a crafted item of the highest degree. If Moody’s seeing Seamus putting his chewing gum under his desk while his back was turned was any indicator, getting close enough to him to observe him was going to be nigh near impossible.

Hermione yawned. “I’m going to get some sleep, Ginny. Tomorrow is Harry’s big day, and I should probably be up early to support him.”

Ginny nodded. “I’ll be up soon.”

Hermione nodded, standing and leaving the table with a blur of efficiency.

Neville shuddered next to Ginny. “She’s been under his thumb for too long,” he moaned both with horror and pity. “She even leaves a room like he’s after her.”

Ginny nodded to Neville with understanding. “Poor Hermione.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“He’s always watching,” Draco said wearily. “He was even watching me while I was sitting in the tree in the courtyard.” He held his head in his hands. “Sometimes I think he has it out for me the way he practically escorts Potter around like Fang tracking a rabbit.”

“Ginny told me he transfigured you in front of the entire courtyard,” Hermione said with sympathy.

“Yeah, that was bloody horrible,” Draco grunted. “I mean… I’m training to be able to take another form, but being forced into it. I completely freaked out and bit Goyle.”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, he might have deserved that.”

Draco smirked. “Maybe.”

“The eye is making it very hard to get in close,” Hermione said. “Severus says it can even see those under the invisibility cloak. I haven’t dared to disillusion around him.”

Draco nodded. “We don’t want to tip him off that a fourth year can disillusion or anything else, either,” he agreed.

“We need to fetch some gillyweed,” Hermione said with a huff of steam in the cold air. “The stores are low.”

Draco made a face. “It’s getting a little cold for gillyweed, so my uncle wants us to go diving in almost freezing water to fetch gillyweed?”

Hermione gave him a sheepish look.

“I know you don’t question Severus, Hermione,” Draco grunted. “But he’s really needs to bring these kind of things up before we become ice cubes. He should just fly his feathered arse out and dive into the ocean himself.”

“Grumpy,” Hermione chuckled as they slipped out into the chilled evening air.

Their combined dash towards the edge of the forest was swift and silent. Hermione shifted and was running on all fours the moment the forest swallowed them up. Draco leapt upon her back in a dead run, clinging to her neck as he tucked himself against her feathers. Her wings flipped out with a snap as she launched into the air, carrying the both of them aloft.

Draco held his arm out, his fingers flicking out. “1…2…3!”

CRACK!

The two of them warped together in a blink of an eye as the apparition zipped them away to their target location with the both of them silently thanking Severus for his meticulous lessons in apparition. They were “too young” to be officially licensed, but like most of their secrets, there were a lot of things they were “too young” to know, but knew regardless.

Hermione beat her wings furiously and evened out her flight as she glided towards the pounding surf. Draco released his deathgrip around her neck as she landed on an outcrop of rocks. Hermione dug her talons and claws into the outcrop with gusto as Draco slid off her back. He cast his robe over her back as cast a bubble-head charm over himself. He shook his head and dove into the cold water below. Grateful for her own heightened body heat, Hermione snapped at Draco’s robe from her back and put it under herself, laying on top of them to keep them warm.

In a few minutes, Draco surfaced with an armful of jelly-like gillyweed, his teeth chattering audibly. He crawled up the outcrop to get back to Hermione.

Hermione stood, fanning her wings out over him to protect him from the wind and surf. He sat between her legs with his robe pulled around him, chattering the drying charm as Hermione’s elevated body heat kept him warm.

Draco stuffed the gillyweed into the traveling satchel, tugging the clasp closed with a sharp tug. He threw the satchel over Hermione’s haunches, buckling it in place. Hermione dipped her wings so Draco could pull himself back into position in front of her wings and wrap his arms around her neck.

Hermione launched in the air, her great wing beats taking them above the turbulent surf.

Draco held out his hand. “1…2…3…”

CRACK.

The pair landed on the edge of the Dark Forest in a flurry of movement with Draco moving quickly to unbuckle the satchel for Hermione’s body. Hermione shifted back quickly, shivering as the cold of the night air chilled her human body.

Nodding silently to each other, Draco fled in one direction with the satchel of gillyweed, and Hermione fled in the opposite direction, making her way to Hogwarts from a different path.

By the time Hermione made it back to the Gryffindor dormitories and flopped into her bed, Ginny was just making her way back into the Common Room.

With a tired yawn, Hermione closed her eyes and let the blackness of sleep drag her under as Crookshanks kneaded the pillow beside her head and curled up with her.


	14. Rumours of the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape teaches his Apprentice how to dance.  
> Draco channels his inner Slytherin.

**Chapter 14: Rumors of the Ball**

“A Ball… it’s bloody horrible,” Draco moaned, thunking his head against the desk. “I’d rather face Harry’s dragon, I think, than have to take Pansy Parkinson to the bloody ball.”

Severus lifted his head from his desk as his quill hand scrawled furiously over a pile of parchments. “As I understand it, Harry barely survived his dragon thanks to someone putting a weakened chain on the beast, so I highly recommend you not attempting to wrestle a dragon anytime soon.”

“Why couldn’t he just put a sleeping spell or paralysing on it instead of flying around like a bloody lunatic and smashing it into an aqueduct?” Draco said with a shake of his head.

“We’re not supposed to know those spells, yet, Draco,” Hermione said with a sigh. “Krum and Delacour are both advanced students. It’s expected that they know them by now. Harry was never supposed to be in the contest.”

“We know them,” Draco grunted. “They aren’t that hard.”

“You two,” Severus said softly, “Are hardly normal examples of expectation for your age group, Draco.”

“Master, you knew them at our age,” she commented. “You were making your own spells at our age.”

Severus gave her an amused look. “I was not exactly a normal example of my age group either. Not that it saved me from humiliating situations with the bloody Marauders.”

Draco and Hermione sighed together, nodding their heads.

“I don’t even know how to dance,” Hermione confessed. “I can curse and counter-curse on the fly, silently, while taking out a target with a beak and claws with Draco on my back, but I can’t dance.”

“I would hardly connect those skills together, my Apprentice,” Severus snorted. “A waltz will hardly save you from Cruciatus.”

Hermione gave her Master a long-suffering look.

“Personally, I think a dancing gryphon would pretty glorious to see,” Draco said, nudging Hermione with his elbow.

Hermione chuckled, ruffling Draco’s hair with her hands. “I take it Pansy has already implied and suggested, if not begged, that you take her to the Yule Ball?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Practically sneaked up into my dormitory and pounced on me this morning after Severus made the announcement for the ball.”

Hermione made wide-eyes of sympathy. “Sorry.”

Draco shrugged. “Wish I could just tell everyone to piss off and take you to the ball,” he confessed. “At least we get along without having to talk about fashion and… society.”

Hermione laughed, nudging her friend with her head into his shoulder. “Well at least, so far anyway, I’m pretty sure neither Ron or Harry… or anyone else in Gryffindor as far as I know, remember that I’m even a girl, so I might be able to hole myself up in the dorms and never have to expose my lack of dancing skill.”

“Idiots,” Draco fussed.

“Pssht,” Severus made the dismissing sound with his lips pursed and stood up. He lifted his arm. “Come here, my Apprentice, you insufferable girl.”

Hermione leapt up to his call without even paying attention to what came after his demand for her to go to his side.

Severus pointed his wand to his shelf, and a record flew to the hidden gramophone. The music started playing shortly after. “Hand here. Other hand here. Now, take my lead.”

Draco grinned like a hyena as his godfather instructed Hermione in the basics of dancing over the course of the next hour, including some of the not so basic rules of interaction at social events that typically occurred in formal functions. At one point, once the basics were drilled in, he switched off with Draco, forcing the pair to dance together under his watchful eye.

Draco and Hermione drifted across his sitting room floor to the music as if guided by invisible strings. Draco had been drilled since he was young enough to walk how to dance, thanks to his family and their their multitude of “high society” functions. Hermione followed his lead, allowing him to guide her across the floor in a fluid and practised grace.

When the music finally came to a close, Severus looked upon them with a tolerant expression of a man forced to endure something for the greater good. Hermione dropped into a formal curtsy to her Master with respect.

Severus placed his hand upon the back of her head, gently signalling his approval. He withdrew his hand after a moment, nodding to Draco.

Draco smirked. “Do you have formals for the Ball, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at him with embarrassment.

Draco looked at her with sympathy. “I wish I could introduce you to my mother properly. She may support my father in whatever he does, but she does have a keen sense of Wizarding fashion… at least more than you’d ever get from some of your House-mates.”

Hermione laughed. “You should see Ron’s formal robes. His mother sent them via owl. He says it looks like they stole them off his Great Aunt Tessie.”

Draco had a look of horror on his face. “I can only imagine… what Molly Weasley would send him.”

“I think,” Severus said quietly, “that in this case, perhaps it would be wise to ask Minerva for assistance, Hermione. The obnoxious tabby has her quirks, but I’m sure she would adore being able to assist her favourite lion cub in… less embarrassing witch fashion.”

Hermione smiled. “She’s going to smell you both on me at close range, my Master. She would be a fool not to suspect, even though my scent won’t give away my animagus status thanks to that potion.”

Severus placed his fingers to his lips in contemplation. “I have a feeling she has suspected anyway. She roams the halls as a cat, after all, and her nose has probably been cluing her in, even if her head doesn’t want to believe it.”

“Perhaps…” the blond-hair Slytherin suggested, “you could turn this into a teaching opportunity.”

Twin eyebrows arched at Draco from Severus and Hermione.

“Make it seem like Severus wants to bring McGonagall into his trust. Tell her enough that you are concerned about Hermione, but cannot reveal it to your House lest bad rumors pass through the school. Ask her, perhaps, to tutor her in more advanced Transfiguration. Hermione could, then, be curious about being an animagus. McGonagall could “teach” Hermione, and Hermione wouldn’t have to use that stupid deodorant anymore. You know that McGonagall would adore taking someone under wing. She hasn’t had an apprentice in… Merlin knows how long. She’d keep it secret even from Dumbledore.”

Hermione seemed to be starting at Draco like he’d sprouted another head.

Severus’ lip curved upward in a smirk. “Clever,” he purred. “Minerva would be a powerful ally, and she already favors you in many ways.”

Hermione gulped and nodded.

“I will… let it slip in conversation,” Severus said with a soft rumble. “She will probably pounce on you in typical tabby fashion shortly after. She will not… be able to resist such an opportunity to take you under her wing… or paw as the case may be.”

Severus placed his hand on Hermione’s head, gently soothing her. :You will be fine. Just remember to mess up and look frustrated every so often.:

Hermione smiled at him. :Yes, Master.”

“Patrol is soon,” Severus grunted. “Out.”

Draco and Hermione wrapped their arms around his waist and gave him a hug, causing him to place his hands upon their heads gently. They looked up at him fondly and zoomed out the portal with automatic hasted and stealth.

Severus watched as Draco silently gestured to Hermione as he left his chambers.

“Let’s sneak some ice cream from the kitchen.”

Severus smirked. :Don’t let me catch you two raiding the kitchen pantries while I’m patrolling,: he rumbled into her mind.

:Never, my Master,” she chuckled back to him. :My Master is a spy. Surely, he has taught me how to sneak into the pantry without being caught.:

:See that you are not,: he replied dryly.

Hermione beamed back at him, sending the warmth from her mind like the hug they had just engaged in.

Severus walked out of his exit portal, his robes swirling behind him. :You have ten minutes before I get to the kitchen.:

:Your will is mine,: she answered him formally, warmth laced through her mind voice.

Snape schooled his face into impassiveness as he began his patrol. If Minerva had any idea of the amount of mischief that simmered underneath Hermione’s studious face and Draco’s entitled facade, she would probably be aghast with disbelief. It would almost be worth it to reveal the truth just to be there when Minerva put it all together. Alas… it was better that Minerva believe she was doing things on her own terms. Perhaps, one day, this would change, but until then, he would keep his Apprentice and Draco’s mischief to himself. In the mean time, he would have to think of good “reasons” to explain why Hermione would carry his scent as well as Draco’s upon her person before he spoke with her. The work on his personal spiderweb, so it seemed, never ended.


	15. Unexpected Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets an unexpected invitation.

**Chapter 15 : Unexpected Date**

There was a slight shift in the wind that caused Hermione to look up from her book she was reading. The scent off Black Lake had held the organic scent of water and winter combined, but what was coming towards her now was human, male, and foreign.

It wasn’t unpleasant, by any means, but there was an element of earth from a place that wasn’t immediately her “territory.” It was odd, even to her, to think of things in terms territory, but there was part of her that saw things in a very cutthroat manner. Part of her hoped it was because of the gryphon aspect of her life, but the other part of her was resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t be a gryphon if part of her wasn’t already. Chicken meet egg.

Professor McGonagall, much as Severus and Draco had suspected, took Hermione under her care like a protective mother cave lion, tutoring and assigning her all sorts of transfiguration assignments to keep her busy in the face of “helping her be more prepared for the future.” Hermione wasn’t sure what Severus had told the cat animagus, but she didn’t question her practically sharing scents with Severus and Draco. It must have been a glorious excuse. Knowing her Master, it was probably flawless.

Regardless of the excuse, the end result was a pile of transfigured objects sitting around her a vault in Gringott’s. Cups, goblets, utensils, coins, small plush animals, and random sculptures, chess pieces, and marbles of different size, shapes, and colors were scattered around her.

The Bulgarian student was approaching her at a brisk walk. She eyed him curiously, trying to make out his face. As he came closer, she realized that it was Viktor Krum, and for once, he did not have his entourage of a hundred and one giggling females trailing him like a cloud of hungry pigeons, nor was his Headmaster following him like a dark and brooding bodyguard of the Minister of Magic.

Viktor eyed her with his dark eyes, his face was curious. “’Ello.” His accent was thick, but his expression was friendly.

“Hello,” Hermione answered him. “Would you… care to sit down?” She gestured to a chair she had transfigured out of a log.

“Thank you,” Viktor said, giving a short bow before he sat down. He seemed to evaluate her with his eyes. “You… are different from the others.”

Hermione tilted her head.

Viktor seemed to be struggling with his English. “You… sit out here… alone. Others… travel together like… hunting packs.”

Hermione smirked slightly at the analogy. “You seem to be missing your… hunting pack.”

Viktor smiled. “I had… friend… take polyjuice and keep them busy.”

Hermione half choked. “Interesting remedy.”

“Aleksander,” Viktor replied. “He like pretending. I let him. He can’t fly on broom though… horrible Quidditch.”

Hermione laughed. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever brewed polyjuice to just to get away from people. Our Potion Master would… probably give us detention for months for wasting ingredients.” Hermione shuddered as she speculated on what would happen if many students attempted to raid his stash for making polyjuice potions any more than he was already ready to start hexing across the school for his missing Boomslang skins and lacewing flies.

Viktor laughed. “Vhere I come from… ingredients easier. Boomslang snake under every rock.”

Hermione giggled. If Boomslang snakes were that plentiful in Scotland, she knew Severus would be having Draco and her skin and dry the snakes until he had enough in reserve to last for a years worth of horrible student mistakes. As it was, for good or bad, it had to be ordered, leaving the supply a dwindling in number thanks to whoever was lifting it from under her Master’s nose.

“You… practicing transfiguration?” Viktor pointed to the pile of random baubles that were sitting at their feet.

Hermione nodded. “Extra homework.”

The Seeker looked at her in amusement, picking up one of the marbles. He tapped it with his wand and said an incantation in some language that was definitely not Latin nor was it English and dropped the results into her hand.

Hermione touched the stone with a little wonder. He had turned it into a carving of a lion rampant from the Gryffindor crest. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Viktor cast his eyes over all of the objects she had transfigured. “You… very talented. Thorough,” he said, pointing to the detailed sculpture of a hippogriff she had made. He tapped his wand to the hippogriff, saying words again that she did not recognize. The hippogriff came to life, prancing around their feet in a manner that reminded Hermione of Witherwings.

Hermione smiled at the animated sculpture.

Viktor’s eyes flicked over to her and kept her gaze almost nervously. “You.. have Master?”

Hermione blinked. “Pardon?”

Viktor seemed to be struggling with the language again. “I sorry. Is… difficult. Talented Durmstrang students often… protected by Master.” The Bulgarian Seeker, who exuded confidence on the Quidditch field, seemed completely frustrated with communication. “Is logical that you are… protected by Master… Durmstrang encourages this. Respectful to ask Master first… if have one.”

Hermione blinked. At first she thought she had been found out by someone who hadn’t even gone to the same school as her, but she was starting to piece together from Viktor’s broken command of English that from where he came from, students were snapped up into Apprenticeships the moment they showed aptitude. It was apparently so common there, that it was logical to expect Hermione to have a Master. But what would he need to ask permission from her supposed Master for?

“I do not… have a Master like you are thinking, I think, Viktor,” Hermione managed to dance around that technicality. “If you have a question for me, you just ask.”

Viktor seemed to chew on this for a while before he met her gaze again. His eyes were dark, much like her Master’s, but there was emotion behind them that was more raw and uncontrolled. “I vould ask… if you vould… come to dance with me.”

Hermione stared at him as if he’d suddenly started to talk in Parsel Tongue.

Viktor looked at her apologetically. “Did I say wrong?”

Hermione clamped her mouth shut to avoid looking like a gaping fish. “Ah… no, you said it just fine.”

Viktor looked relieved, but he stared at her intently, waiting for an answer.

Hermione cast her eyes down and then looked at him again. “I… would be honored.”

Viktor gave her a genuine smile. He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. He stood up and bowed to her at the neck. “I am glad,” he said with a smile. “See you again soon.” With that, the Seeker turned on his heels and marched back up the path to the boats that shuttled back and forth from the Durmstrang ship.

Hermione looked down, staring at the prancing hippogryph at her feet and scooped it up, cradling it in her hands. What just happened?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After that particularly odd morning, Viktor had managed to ditch his devotees quite regularly, finding Hermione in many of her quiet places she used to escape the drama of the Tournament to do her classwork. They would engage in conversation, and he would refine his command of English with her. He was, she was surprised and happy to find out, a very quick study. While he still hung onto his accent quite thickly, he began to fill out his sentences more naturally and with less awkwardness.

One time, Draco had come to find her and practically dropped his jaw on the floor as he saw them together. “You studying with him?” he gestured at her frantically, looking like he was smacking himself in the head. “Merlin! Autograph. Get me one!”

Hermione blushed as Draco stormed by in an effort to not look like he was intending to be there.

In perhaps the most impulsive and downright temerarious act she could ever recall herself doing, she sneaked into the Slytherin dormitories and stole Draco’s broom.

“I did not think you liked brooms,” Viktor looked at her with puzzlement. “You said… not your thing.”

Hermione blushed. “Brooms feel awkward,” she confessed. “But this is… for a friend.”

Viktor laughed as he pulled out his wand. “For you, I sign whatever you wish.” He ran his wand across the shaft of Draco’s broom and his name carved itself into the handle with a small tuft of smoke.”

Hermione grinned at him, “Thank you.”

Viktor signed a few of her transfiguration marbles as well for whatever other friends would be pining away for an autograph. He told her she could use them to gain favor with those she wished, and Hermione laughed at his very Slytherin outlook on his own autographs.

So far, strangely enough, no one knew Viktor was spending time with her, save Draco and her very amused Master. Once the Yule Ball came around, that would definitely change, but for now, at least, their spending time together was blissfully free of drama. When Ginny had asked her where the small animated hippogriff on her dresser had come from, Hermione had patted it affectionately and said she had been practicing her transfiguration with a friend.

After that, she carried the wriggling hippogriff down to Severus’ quarters with her and set it loose upon one of his bookshelves, not wanting it to call attention to itself in her dorm area. Severus’ eyebrow lifted in curiosity as he spotted the prancing sculpture on his bookshelf, but he didn’t question her.

When Draco busted into Severus’ chambers ranting about how some git had stolen his broom with about as much venom and colorful use of vernacular that Hermione’s face went beet red, Hermione realized that she wasn’t going to be able to avoid the consequences of her thievery.

Hermione pulled the shrunken broom out from her robe pocket and tapped it with her wand, restoring it to its normal size. She held it out to him with the most apologetic expression she could muster.

“Her….YOU stole my broom?!” Draco sputtered, his hand shaking as he snatched his broom back to himself and hugged it like he’d just found his long lost friend that he’d thought was dead. He fixed her with a hurt expression that bordered on betrayal.

Hermione winced, and slowly pointed to the handle.

When Draco’s eyes finally sent the message to his brain of what he was staring at, he looked at her with wide eyes. His hand traced the signature of Viktor Krum on his beloved broom and launched himself on top of Hermione with a unmanly squeal of delight, hugging the life out from her.

Hermione wheezed, struggling for breath as Severus yanked Draco off his Apprentice.

“I would prefer my Apprentice not die of asphyxiation in my own chambers,” Severus rumbled.

Draco looked sheepish, but totally unapologetic as he hugged Hermione again, slightly less in the manner of smothering her to death.

Severus shook his head at the pair.

When Hermione explained how Viktor had wanted to ask permission from “her Master” to ask her to the ball, Severus has smirked. Even if it had been public knowledge that she was his Apprentice, he was pretty sure that conversation would have been shamefully awkward.

A rustling on Severus’ bookshelf revealed the minature hippogriff had nestled within a pile of his parchments and scrolls, making its own version of a nest. One eyebrow raised in appraisal to the sight before him.

“Be careful around Igor,” he said softly, watching the hippogriff “sleep” in his scrolls. “He is duplicitous. In the end, the only thing that matters is him.”

Hermione and Draco perked to attention and then nodded in affirmative.

“Come,” Severus said, gesturing to the nearby table. “Show me what you are working on.”

Hermione and Draco grabbed their books and sat down around the table as Severus leaned over their shoulders and pointed out details for their lessons.

Snape smirked as he saw Draco cradling his beloved broom close to him as he studied, every so often reaching over touch the place where Viktor had carved his name into it.

:I will overlook your blatant invasion of my House’s dormitories this time, my Apprentice,” Severus purred into Hermione’s mind.

Hermione’s mental presence yielded to his praise and admonishment wrapped into one. :Yes, Master,: she replied warmly.

Severus’ hand gently touched the top of her head as he pointed to something she had written. At least for the moment, some semblance of normality had descended upon the trio.


	16. Miniature Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron learns that he shouldn't touch things that aren't his.

**Chapter 16: Miniature Mourning**

Hermione smiled as the little hippogriff snuffled her books and let out a small chirp, tugging one of the pages with its tiny beak. She nudged the little creature off her parchments and watched it prance delicately across the study hall table.

The animation magic was intricate and thorough—a testament to Viktor’s command of charms. Even Ginny was enchanted with the little creature, petting its small wings and rubbing its chin with her fingers.

The little creature charmed the robes off the study hall and even Severus turned a blind eye to the antics of the tiny hippogriff as it walked down the tables. For the most part, the mini-hippogriff was cuddled close as people wrote their papers, climbing in and out of people’s arms as students wrote their work out.

“We’re going to be the only ones of our year without dates,” Ron moaned to Harry, only to have his head forcibly cranked back to the table by Snape as he walked by, his head still turned to the writing book in his hands.

“Well except for Neville,” Ron added with a snicker.

“It might interest you to know that Neville already got someone,” Hermione quipped as she continued to write.

“Gaww,” Ron moaned. “Now ,I’m really depressed.”

George proceeded to harrass Ron about his slacking about asking a girl to goto the dance with him. Hermione rolled her eyes. The little hippogriff was nipping at her fingers as she was writing, and she shooed it over. It stuck its nose into the ink pot nearby, sputtered, and pranced down the table right into where Draco was chatting it up with some of the Slytherin House.

The little hippogriff chirped, seemingly recognizing Draco, and snuggled up to his arm. Draco nonchalantly snagged his arm around the little hippogriff and petted it absently with his hand. He whipped out his wand and turned the little creature’s color to an dark emerald green with a silver mane so the other Slytherin wouldn’t protest the hippogriff’s presence.

Pansy was cooing at the hippogriff, trying to lure it out of Draco’s protective arms. Draco kept his arm around the small creature, not wanting to let Hermione’s little construct to be handled by Pansy of all people. She’d probably squeeze the poor thing to pieces. Soothing the little hippogriff on the head, it chirped and snuggled into his sleeve.

“Well, Hermione,” Ron drawled. “You’re a girl.”

“Well spotted,” Hermione snarked back at him, and Harry frantically tried to get Ron’s attention.

Snape’s book came slamming down on Ron’s head with a loud thwack. Seconds later, the book bashed into Harry’s head too as Severus continued down the aisle with a look of disgust on his face.

“It’s one thing for a bloke to show up alone,” Ron explained, as he completely ignored being brained by the book, “but for a girl it would be just sad.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “I won’t be going alone because someone already asked me,” she hissed, standing up with her writing notebook and carrying it down the aisle.

:Boy issues?: Severus asked as he took her notebook with an impassive expression.

:May I punch him, Master?: Hermione asked wearily, meeting his eyes briefly as she turned to leave.

:I, nor any of my House would probably mind,: Severus said dryly, :however, I do not think it would promote inter-House solidarity.:

Hermione gave her Master a weary mental sigh.

:Draco seems to have hijaaked your hippogriff,” Severus commented.

:He’s too adorable for his own good,: Hermione chuckled. :Viktor gave him a charming personality.:

Severus gave her a mental chuckle. :I see even Ms. Parkinson wants to coo over it. Impressive.:

Hermione smiled, feeling the warmth of her Master’s presence. Draco had let go of the wriggling little hippogriff so it could prance its way back to Hermione down the table. She smiled at the hippogriff’s new Slytherin colors.

The little creature chirped happily and galloped down the wooden table, bouncing over the ink wells in its excitement to get back to her.

“Keep your disgusting Slytherin crap to yourself, Malfoy,” Ron growled down the table as he saw the bundle of green and silver zoom out from Draco’s arms. He backhanded the little blur of emerald and silver off the table. The little hippogriff gave a loud squeak as its little body went flying across the study hall, crashing against the near wall and fell to pieces.

Hermione’s body went rigid as the sound of Ron’s hand made contact with the miniature hippogriff, and the moment it hit the wall, her eyes widened in horror. She ran through the aisles and skidded to a halt by the little construct’s body. The little hippogriff was flapping one wing in distress, the other wing was broken off, and one of its tiny legs were broken. “No…” Hermione moaned, scooping up the broken body of the little hippogriff with agony. Her fingers were trembling. Energy was crackling through her carefully constructed shields. Her hair was starting to rise, as if fire was wicking it upwards.

She stood, her eyes glared at Ronald Weasley. In that moment, it was not Hermione Granger that stared at him. Her eyes had darkened into a shade so deep that they were close to black. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles in her face twitched. What stared at Ronald Weasley was raw fury.

“You inconsiderate jackass!” Ginny yelled at her brother. “Are you blind as well as stupid?”

Perhaps some semblance of sanity passed into Hermione as Ginny assaulted her brother with a bat boogey hex. Hermione clutched the remains of the little hippogriff in her hands and fled the study hall with a whirl of her robe that very well could have been Hogwart’s second native dungeon bat incarnate.

Draco looked up from glaring balefully at Ronald Weasley, his jaw clenched in his own fury. He caught Severus’ gaze. Severus was standing perfectly still… a sign of a very tightly controlled rein on his emotions.

Severus took three agonizingly slow steps towards Ron and his pale hand grabbed his collar and hoisted him up. “Detention, Mr. Weasley. Tonight. With. Me. Where you will learn to respect… other… people’s… property,” Snape said so lowly that his voice was hardly a whisper. “Or your hands fall off… whichever… happens… first. And since you cannot seem to remember… who… your… House-mates… are… you will report to Professor McGonagall for her to decide how many points to dock off your sorry excuse for a posterior.”

Ronald Weasley could do little to protest as he hung suspended by the Potion Master’s iron grip and Ginny’s bat boogeys were flying out of his nose and then slapping him in the face.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your horrible language, Ms. Weasley,” Severus growled.

Ginny turned red and cast her eyes down, not even noticing that Snape didn’t admonish or dock points from her for hexing Ronald in front of the the entire study hall.

Severus dropped Ron back to the bench and on his butt, flaring out his fingers as though he were letting something disgusting drip off them. He strode down the aisle of study hall, causing all the students to cast their eyes down, lest they draw the Potion Master’s ire upon themselves.

When Ron managed to clear some of the slime off his face from Ginny’s hexes, he managed to look at Harry, who was looking at him as though Ron had just thrown Hedwig in front of the Hogwarts Express.

“You really are a foul git this month, Ron,” Harry said before he turned back to writing in his notebook. “Now you’re never going to get a date to the Ball.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Vho did dis?” Viktor asked as he went into a sitting position in front of Hermione, who was cradling the remains of the small hippogriff in her hands.

Hermione ran her fingers over the little hippogriff’s head, attempting to soothe it. It kept trying to stand, but both its leg and wing were broken. Viktor had charmed the beast so intricately, that it acted like the real thing, and it chirped pathetically as its body strained to move. “Ron… he… slapped it against the wall.”

“Dere are… vords for people like him in my Country,” Viktor said softly. “None of them… polite when… lady present.”

Hermione looked forlornly at the little construct. It had been something special to her in a very short amount of time, and now, faced by its demise, she was finding herself in emotional disarray.

“Come,” Viktor said, placing his hands over her cupped ones. “Ve can… vork together. Close eyes and imagine it vhole. I do rest.”

His hands grew warm over hers, and Hermione closed her eyes, imagining the details of the little hippogriff in her mind down to the minute detail.

They sat there, hands interlocked, for the better part of an hour. When Viktor released her hands, he had a smile upon his face. “You have… great attention to detail. Look.” He pointed down to her hands with his chin.

Hermione looked down into her hands, and the little hippogriff was whole again. His tiny silver wings flapped outward together in unison. The miniature creature chirped happily, rubbing up against Hermione’s fingers for attention.

Hermione gave Viktor a genuine smile of both relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Is nothing,” Viktor replied. “People think… because I play Quidditch well… dat I do not study. Could be fatal mistake in battle, yes?”

Hermione nodded to him. “Important rule. Let the other guy underestimate you, never the other way around.”

Viktor nodded. “I added charm to beast. Vill not break, burn, or melt.”

Hermione smiled. “How thoughtful, thank you.”

Viktor stood up and held his hand out to her, pulling her up.

Hermione cradled the little hippogriff in her arms and tucked it into a pocket in her robes. It squirmed a little before settling in the pocket.

Viktor looked across Black Lake to the ship the Durmstrang students had arrived in. “Ve are not all… evil… like the stories say,” he said softly. “But… Durmstrang train hard in light and dark to know them both. Things here… different. Avoid dark, pretend light save you. Sometime… light not save you. Sometime… light get you killed.”

Hermione lifted her head and nodded to Viktor. While she did not consider him unintelligent, she had not expected him to be so forthcoming with his knowledge.

“Be careful… my Headmaster… he very dark. Good teacher of the dark, but horrible man,” Viktor said. “Strict. Selfish. Cruel. He is not only danger, but he… one of many.”

Hermione met Viktor’s gaze as he looked down at her face. “Viktor, why are you telling me this?”

Viktor took her hand and lowered himself into a bow, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “Because… you are both light and dark too.” He smiled at her, slowly pulling away from her. “Goodnight, Her-my-own. Maybe sometime… I take you fly. Maybe fly by your rude ‘friend’ vho break your hippogriff.” He turned and walked the path back towards the Durmstrang ship.

The little hippogriff in her robe squirmed and she reached into her pocket and soothed it gently with her fingers with a smile on her face. She pulled the little creature out from her pocket and smoothed out its miniature wings. “Your name is Viktor,” she told the little hippogriff.

“Viktor” chirped happily in response, rubbing his beak against her fingers. It launched into the air and flew around her head a few times, then landed on her shoulder, trotting right into her hair and proceeded to hide itself.

Realizing that Viktor had added a few more self-preservation traits on the little hippogriff, Hermione smiled and started the walk back towards Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hermione!” Draco called as he slammed into his friend at a high velocity. He crushed Hermione into a hug. “Are you okay?”

Hermione nodded silently and pointed to the little hippogriff that was curled up in Severus’ scrolls that he was attempting to grade.

“You fixed him! That’s wonderful!”

“Viktor helped me fix him,” Hermione explained. “He added some charms to him so he could withstand abuse, if it happens again, that is.”

“That’s impressive,” Draco said with a nod. “I’m glad he found you. I was tied up with my House for most of the day. If it makes you feel better though… we spend most of it mocking the Weasel for being a dumbass.”

“Language, Draco,” Severus growled from his desk.

“Sorry, Severus,” Draco apologized. “He is a lousy git though.”

Severus arched a brow at his godson, but didn’t say anything further.

“Professor McGonagall dressed him down in the hallway even,” Draco recounted. “She even docked ten points from her own House for his ‘blatant disregard for property of others.’”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Wow. Professor McGonagall can be… scary.”

Draco nodded. “How did his detention go, Uncle?”

Severus lifted his head, his quill pausing slightly. “He spent the entire evening harvesting Flobberworm mucous from the attic,” Severus said with a sniff. “We have enough now to last for a few terms, provided we don’t have a flobberworm mucous crisis pop up.”

“Ew,” Hermione said. “I can’t say that I’m not glad I don’t have to do that for you, Master.”

“I figured I’d reward you and Draco with the mental image of him covered from head to toe in Flobberworms,” Snape said with a shrug.

Hermione shuddered. “I almost lost it this afternoon,” Hermione confessed as she smiled at Viktor the hippogriff snoozing in Severus’ parchments. “I apologize, Master.”

Severus waved his hand dismissively. “You do not lose focus often, and I confess a part of me was pondering allowing you to beat him up in front of the entire study hall for my own satisfaction before Miss Weasley took the punishment into her own hands. She does a rather accurate rendition of Molly Weasley’s temper.”

Hermione blushed.

“Now that I do not have to babysit Mr. Weasley, I can teach you how to make a more effective Essence of Dittany,” Severus said, standing up. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it before the week is out.”

Draco and Hermione nodded and followed the Potion Master to the laboratory, leaving the content miniature hippogriff nestled in the parchment on Severus’ desk. The small construct yawned beakily, snuggled into the parchments, and let out a soft chirp. It was a fitting end to a long day for the little hippogriff’s day of suffering, and no one seemed more happy to end it buried in the Potion Master’s parchments than little Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I love the study hall scene in GoF, so I had to do my own little tribute to it. I ended up writing this chapter almost as a reminder of why Ronald is never allowed to be Hermione's romance interest. At least in my head, anyway. I mean, really, who would EVER get together with someone who smashes your favorite animated hippogriff statue? I wouldn't. *smirk* Makes you wonder though, jealousy about Krum aside, what Ron would think if he found out that his Quidditch hero is the one that animated the little hippogriff for Hermione. Sorry about the hippogriff abuse, though. It did kind of break my heart to write it, but I fixed it!!! (phew)


	17. Formal Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva takes Hermione out shopping.  
> Hermione brings home takeout.  
> Hermione may or may not have saved the day... intentionally.

**Chapter 19 : Formal Clothes**

Much to Hermione’s surprise, Crookshanks and the little Viktor got along. Vik took to sleeping on her pillow with Crookshanks, and Crookshanks curled around the little hippogriff like he was protecting his favorite catnip mouse.

Morning came like it usually did, rudely with sunbeam to the face. Silently cursing Ginny for leaving the window curtain open, Hermione opened her eyes to find Vik snuffling her chin. Crooks meowed at her, head-butting her cheek in greeting.

“You’re really going with him?” Ginny yawned a greeting from the next bed over. “Really, really? I didn’t just dream that?”

Ginny patted her pillow and giggled as the little hippogriff landed on it and rubbed against her, wings fluttering. They had a long talk upon her return to the dormitories the previous night about her lousy git of a brother, broken and repaired hippogriffs, and Hermione’s true date.

The youngest Weasley seemed quite ecstatic about the entire affair, but strangely enough, kept her mouth shut when asked about it. Admitting to a little jealously, Ginny had been excited to receive one of Viktor’s signature marbles, forgiving Hermione for her not telling her sooner about her date to the ball.

Ginny, apparently, had been invited by Neville to goto the dance, and despite what others seemed to think, Ginny was perfectly happy to get to go to the dance at all. Neville, she said, was a perfect gentleman, which she noted was something rare these days considering the current attitude her brother was demonstrating.

“I don’t even know what’s gotten into him,” Ginny grunted. “He’s been downright awful since the World Cup.” She snuggled Vik, which had become the little hippogriff’s nickname, with her face, causing the little hippogriff to cheep happily. “The enchantments and charms on this little guy are impressive,”Ginny said with a little awe. “I’ll admit, I never thought Viktor Krum would be the intricate charm type.”

“He is a TriWizard Champion, Ginny,” Hermione chuckled. “That isn’t exactly point and grunt wizardry.”

Ginny giggle. “Can you image Crabbe or Goyle being in the Tournament?”

Hermione practically choked. “No… no I couldn’t see it.”

Ginny scratched Vik under the chin and smiled as the little hippogriff flapped his wings in response. “I totally want one, Hermione. If you ever make another, I call dibs.”

Hermione laughed.

Ginny giggled as Vik snuggled up to her neck and chirped cutely, engaging his disarmingly cute superpower that caused even Pansy Parkinson to melt with adoration.

“What are you going to wear to the ball, Hermione?” Ginny asked with a grin. “Can’t be worse than what Ronald has to wear. I’m not sure if mum sent him that on purpose, or if she really didn’t have anything better to send him.”

Hermione gave a small smile. She knew that the Weasley family was not exactly well to do with the having of a practical brood of children to care for. They did their best, however, and no one could claim that they didn’t love their children greatly.

“I haven’t managed to pick out a set of formals yet,” Hermione confessed.

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look. “Mum actually sent me a pretty dress. I think it’s because I’m the only girl of the bunch.”

Hermione grinned at her. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

Ginny yawned fitfully, and shook her head. “I’m going to head to breakfast. Coming?”

“Not this time, Ginny,” Hermione said with a smirk. “I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall.”

“I hope it isn’t because of Ron,” Ginny groused. “Don’t feel obligated to defend him for anything.”

“I don’t think it is,” Hermione answered. There was absolutely no way Hermione was going to defend Ron’s horrible behavior anyway, but she did understand why Ginny would think she would. She had before, after all, but the time for mindless defense of her “friends” were fast disappearing in favor for those that constantly proved they were.

Ginny scooped up the playful hippogriff and rubbed his tiny wings. Vik chirped appreciatively before flying over to Hermione’s shoulder and burying himself into her hair. “I’ll see you later, Hermione. You have detention again with Snape?”

Hermione smirked. “When don’t I have detention with Professor Snape, Ginny?”

“There is that,” Ginny said with a pitying tone in her voice. “I’ve considered doing something horrible, just so I can give you some moral support down there.”

“Better not,” Hermione replied. “You’d probably end up with Mr. Filch instead.”

Ginny shuddered. “I hate to say it, but that would almost be worse. Why couldn’t I get detention with Professor Lupin? He seems like a nice sort. He hardly ever raises his voice, and he even makes magical history seem less like watching mud crabs molt.”

Hermione furrowed her brows at the analogy. “That better not be your way of saying you have a crush on our History of Magic Professor, Ginevra Weasley.”

Ginny blushed and dashed down the dormitory steps like her feet were on fire.

Vik chirped curiously from her hair.

“Yeah…” Hermione agreed. “I’m not going there either.”

-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Minerva apparated the two of them to a glorious Wizarding apparel shop called The Nettle and the Neep that was strangely not in Diagon Alley. The shop was nestled in the back of a muggle clothing store, hidden by a false wall and an equally hidden portal into the “real”shop. This particular shop seemed to have an area specifically set aside for direct apparition, with colorful banners and distinctly easy to remember landmarks to help with visualization. There was a fireplace connected in nearby to the floo network, and a few women flooed in as she took in the sights. Hermione was impressed by the foresight.

“I never even knew this place existed,” Hermione said with a little wonder.

“There are quite a few places like this, scattered around London,” McGonagall explained. “The key is knowing what to look for. Minerva pointed to a small mark on the edge of the sign for the store.

Hermione smiled. “Brilliant.”

The cat animagus smiled and shooed her into the shop with her hands.

Hermione boggled as she touched all sorts of robes of all kinds, her fingers relishing the different fabrics. A flighty woman that Hermione began to suspect was part finch came over to assist her, and within a few moments, quite a number of dress robes floating in and out of Hermione’s range.

McGonagall, looking ever the Professor, kept watch with a critical eye. Some were too fancy, some too puffy, and some were terribly confining. At one point, Minerva appraised what Hermione was wearing and waved her hands adamantly. “Now you look like Severus,” she huffed. “Definitely not.”

Hermione smirked, somewhat sadly stroking the fine fabric of the robe. They were not cut exactly like her Master’s robes, but she could see the similarity. The fabric was finer than a student’s robe, and there was a nice splash of color on the inside of the outer drape and a splash of color across the waist. Vik squeaked enthusiastically from her shoulder, approving of the look.

Minerva fussed, thrusting another dress robe at her, shooing Hermione behind the changing screen yet again. Vik fluttered to the top of the changing screen, chirping commentary as he pranced up and down the edge.

Hermione came out from behind the screen once more, this time draped in a very deep emerald dress with a subtle woven collar. She felt very high-class wrapped in the velvet fabric.

“Beautiful,” McGonagall said critically, but you look a little too Slytherin dressed like that.” She shook her head and shooed her back behind the screen with something else.

Hermione emerged again a few minutes later draped in a rich amber-toned dress.

“Probably not a good color, considering Durmstrang formals are crimson,” Minerva said with a shake of her head. She gave her another mass of cloth and pointed her back behind the screen.

Hermione wriggled into the next set of dress robes with a sigh, privately wondering what Lavender and Parvati found so thrilling in shopping for clothes at every opportunity.

As she came out from behind he screen, Minerva put her hand to her mouth and smiled. “I do believe we’ve found it, Hermione,” the older witch purred. Vik landed on her shoulder with a happy chirp, seemingly appraising Hermione’s dress robes with a curious gaze.

The fabric was silky to the touch and a deep amethyst. Shiny silver and gold thread embroidery wove up and around her sleeves in both magical and mythical animals shapes. At the collar was was an intricate inter-woven form of a dragon, wings spread as if in flight and tail curled around the collar like a choker. Unlike the more modern and almost, if she dared say it, muggle-like dresses, the outfight was indeed dress robes in the truest sense. The outer robe draped across her shoulders in a delicate cascade of a lighter and almost gossamer fabric, giving the impression of folded fairy wings. The belt that was cast across her and tied by her side seemed to be made of icy flames, moving like fire in every way, but cast in a bright silver, white, and blue. Magic fluttered through the fabric now that she had it on. Before, the fabric had seemed quite innocuous, albeit, fine in quality. Hermione smiled and spun in front of McGonagall.

“Fantastic,” Minerva purred. “We’ll take this one, Velvettree.”

“Goodness, you look beyond well suited for that particular set of robes,” Velvettree said with a nod of approval. “Let me get you the matching boots to go with it, my dear.”

The witch hurried off into another aisle, clucking to herself.

Hermione lifted her eyebrow and looked to Minerva for guidance.

McGonagall smiled.

Vik flapped his wings and chirped pleasantly, causing Minerva to reach out an scratch the little hippogriff under the chin. “What a little charmer, that one,” she cooed with approval. “No wonder people were so upset over Ronald Weasley yesterday. I was even getting complaints from people inside Gryffindor. I expect them from Slytherin, but getting them from inside my own House, that was different.”

Hermione scratched Vik under his chin with a smile. “Viktor is very talented in charms. We haven’t done anything like this yet in my Charms classes.”

“Animation is advanced enough,” McGonagall said with a shake of her head. “Personality and reactive responses like this are… very intricate and advanced. It is not something we would consider standard coursework for anyone unless they were already N.E.W.T. Level. It’s not that animation itself is impossible, but that so many things could go wrong. You’ve seen the chocolate frogs, I’m sure? They only have enough magic in them to jump once usually. Anything else would require much more skill to accomplish.”

Hermione nodded.

“Does this little guy learn as well? React to experiences?”

Hermione nodded affirmative. “He recognizes people and knows to hide in my hair. He’s already learned a few commands and gestures too.”

Minerva smiled in approval. “I am glad. I would hate to see this little guy broken again.”

Velvettree shuffled back in with a pair of boots and handed them to Hermione. “Here ya go, my dear,” she said with a smile. “The boots are on the house. It’s so good to see some of the younger folk dressed in real Wizarding robes instead of that pish-posh modern stuff ya see at the formals now. If anyone asks, be sure to send ‘em ‘ere for some real Wizarding attire. Oh and you can charm the boots to be whatever color you want, so don’t think you can only use them for formal events, dear.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione said as she dove behind the screen to change out of the dress robes. As she set the formals over the screen to get into her regular clothes, the formals disappeared as Velvettree pulled them down and carried them off to wrap them.

By the time Hermione managed to get all of her regular clothing back on, she came around the dressing screen to see Minerva already had a giant bag in her hands and Velvettree was already off helping another customer.

“Erm…” Hermione said, searching for her purse to pay for the robes.

“Nonsense,” Minerva tutted as she handed her the bag. “Just be sure to show those slouchers in our House what a real witch is at the Yule Ball.”

Hermione grinned and sank into a formal curtsy. “Thank you, Mistress.”

McGonagall beamed at her. “Come,”she said, holding out her arm. “It’s time I taught you where the real action is.” The Scottish witch had a gleam in her eye.

Hermione smirked and slowly put her hand around her Head of House’s arm.

CRACK.

And they were gone.

-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

By the time Hermione returned back to Hogwarts, she had her arms laden in bags full of loot from her day out with McGonagall, and Viktor the Hippogriff was decked out in bling. The little hippogriff wore a tiny bracelet encrusted with semi-precious stones around his neck like a collar and a silk ribbon in his tail. His tiny rear hooves chimed like bells as he trotted across various surfaces.

She left a box of pastries on Harry’s bed with a note saying he could decide if he wanted to share them with Ron, but she wasn’t giving Ron anything until he came back groveling with an apology for being an inconsiderate git.

To Ginny, she left a small box of chocolate candies from one of the muggle shops in London. They weren’t ensorcelled, but the chocolate was divine, and Hermione knew that Ginny wouldn’t care what spells were or were not on the chocolate as long as it tasted like chocolate.

She owled Viktor a bundle of tarts and fine sausages from one of the stores Minerva had dragged her into, knowing that Viktor had said he missed the hard sausages that were a bit of a comfort food for him.

Last, but not least, Hermione brought back a packed dinner from a small Scottish mom and pop home-cooking hole-in-the-wall place that had been nestled in between a pub and a muggle Chinese restaurant. She laid it out on the small dining room table that Draco, she, and Severus shared regularly, arranged it out on the small pottery plates that her Master kept tucked away, and laid out the silverware, candles, and napkins. She set down a small wrapped box where Draco normally sat, and one at her Master’s accustomed seat. Vik stuck his beak into one of the soup bowls, and she shooed the curious hippogriff off the table only to have him land on her shoulder and stick his soup-dipped beak into her ear.

Hermione twitched and cuddled the little hippogriff mercilessly as punishment, the little creature pumped his legs and flapped his wings as she loved on him. She couldn’t help but smile as the little hippogriff escaped her hands and dove into her hair.

She was just finished pouring the tea when Severus entered his chambers, his eyebrow lifting shortly after as his nose smelled the food and his eyes took in the bounty on his dining table. Hermione grinned at him as he held out his arm to her, and she stepped into his warm embrace. “Welcome home, Master,” she said warmly, Vik shook his head, causing the necklace around his neck to jingle merrily.

Severus’ hand gently alighted upon her head as he drew her against him. “Someone has had a busy day,” he said softly. “I take it your girl’s day out with Minerva was successful?”

Hermione grinned up at him. “It was, my Master.”

Draco shuffled in the entrance portal just as Severus decided to sit down. “Hey Ari—OOF!” he greeted as she pounced on him with a hug. “Hey, missed you too.”

Hermione grinned at him, shoving his shoulder.

Draco smirked and saw the wrapped bundle and food laid out on the table. “Ooo! For me?”

“Of course it’s for you,” Hermione ribbed. “Who else sits in that seat anymore?”

Draco sat down in the seat and grasped the package, digging into it with haste. As the paper fell away, he opened the enclosed box and saw a virtual rainbow of candy snitches, ranging from gold foil covered chocolates to hard candy cinnamon hots and black licorice, all formed into meticulously detailed snitches. Draco beamed at her. “You’re the best!” he grinned. “Thanks!”

“Better not eat those, yet” Severus admonished, pointing to the food laid out over the table.

Severus’ fingers worked the paper off the parcel in front of him, peeling the wrapping off carefully. He eyed the parcel with suspicion, almost as if he expected it to come alive like one of George and Fred’s innumerable pranks and bite him on the knuckles. When he opened the box that was inside, his eyes stared blankly into the box. One finger traced the labels of the small jars inside. “Hermione… how cold you afford this?”

“I couldn’t,” Hermione confessed, causing Severus’ head to snap up.

“Relax, Master,” she placated. “I did not shoplift. I bartered.”

“Whatever could you barter to be worth this, my Apprentice?” Severus asked softly.

“I stopped a man from stealing a vial of phoenix tears, a jar of acromantula venom, and Veritas Serum from the The Serpent and the Wyvern in London while Professor McGonagall was taking care of some errands with some of her contacts,” Hermione said with a grin. “The man had ordered it, come in, and hexed the shopkeeper just as I came in to browse. I may have… accidentally of course… tripped him with a case of Ashwinder eggs that just kind of… fell off the shelf, clumsily tipped over a bucket of leeches onto his privates, and well, in my haste to keep from tripping myself, knocked over a few tins of pond slime that broke open all over the floor. His wand kind of… went flying towards the door, that I may have been hanging on in my attempt to not fall into the slime, and it closed on it. Tragic really. It was very clumsy of me. I tried to open the door again, just to be accommodating, since he was yelling at me so fiercely, and the door sort of… knocked him backwards into the venomous tentacula. I might have… started screaming hysterically at this point… the Aurors might have just happened to pass by… and the shopkeeper may have thought I was his unintentional hero.”

Severus just started at her silently, his dark eyes meeting hers with a completely blank expression.

“He happened to be wanted by the Aurors for suspicions of Dark magic in three cities,” Hermione added. “The Aurors were so happy, they gave me the finder’s fee, and the shopkeeper… well he practically wanted to give me half the store in gratitude, but I said that this small case of vials would be wonderful because I had a friend who was really into potions an would love to have it for his collection… He may or may not have said he wasn’t going to let me leave the store with a bunch of empty vials after what I did… and well… since I was so polite and apologetic about smashing up part of his store in my clumsiness, he may have promised that if I were to ever need anything special ordered in the future in the way of potion ingredients, that all I would have to do is owl him and it would be done.”

Severus very slowly put a forkful of food into his mouth and chewed slowly, eyeing his Apprentice with something akin to being gobsmacked.

Draco, however, having no problems with emotional expression in the slightest, busted up in a roar of laughter that filled up the room with maniacal mirth.

:You, my Apprentice,: Severus whispered into her mind, :are brilliant but scary, and I am thrice blessed that you are on my side.:

Hermione grinned back at him.

“Thank you,” Severus said at last.

Draco, however, continued to laugh hysterically, doubling over at his chair as he clutched Vik the Hippogriff in his hands.

:He’s going to be like that until the food is cold,: Severus commented dryly.

:Mission accomplished, my Master,: Hermione snickered into his mind.

:Please pass the forfar bridie,: Severus said.

:Your will is mine,: Hermione answered, passing her Master the Scottish meat pies.

Master and Apprentice continued to share their meal together as Draco Malfoy proceeded to lose his marbles all over the dining room table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure what happened at the end of this chapter. It all just kind of came out in a rush, and I was cackling the entire time like a lunatic. Hope it amused you. I know I was.


	18. Crouching Gryphon HIdden Auror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione do some sniffing about and find more than socks in Moody's trunk.

Chapter 18 : Crouching Gryphon Hidden Auror

:Master,: Hermione whispered. :I smell something.:

:Weasley’s socks?: came Severus’ question.

:No… well yes, but something else too,: Hermione replied, slightly flustered.

:Tell me,: Severus said softly.

:There are two scents in Professor Moody’s office,: she explained. :Not a student. Not a scent I know, Master. Male… and there is fear.:

:Where are you?:

:In the classroom,: Hermione answered. :His office door is open a crack.:

Silence was the only reply as Hermione continued to quill answers to Professor Moody’s test. Professor Moody was pacing up front in a restless limp. Every so often, he would take a swig from a flask in his jacket. Harry had suspected that it was not something benign like pumpkin juice, and Hermione gave him credit for that. When she tried to scent the liquid he was drinking, all she could smell was that strange male scent.

“Professor Moody, may I trouble you for… a moment,” Severus’ silky voice rumbled from the doorway.

“Of course, Professor Snape,” Moody grunted. He shuffled towards the door to speak with Severus as the class continued to write.

Hermione noticed the gray tabby padding under foot shortly after on her silent cat feet. McGonagall made her way straight to the back office and dove in the space between the door. Shortly after the tabby cat dashed out of the back office.

“I’ll keep an eye out, of course, Professor Snape,” Moody said as he came back in the class room, hobbling up front with staggered movements.

Hermione felt a rustling at her feet and realized that a certain tabby had just crawled into her book bag much like Crookshanks would randomly do. She penned the end to her essay furiously, attempting not to draw attention to herself.

“Pass in your parchments and you are free to go,” Moody snapped, making his way towards his office door.

People shuffled to turn in their work, gathering their books, and rushing out. Hermione stood and placed her parchment on the pile before gathering her book bag and hustling out the door.

With hurried steps, she walked as fast as she could without running and didn’t stop until she was in the courtyard, where she “accidently” got tangled in the rosebushes and had to set her book bag down.

Minerva darted out of her bag and into the depths of the rosebushes, disappearing from view.

“’Ey ‘ermione,” Seamus called from the other side of the courtyard. “Could ya give me some pointers on the essay homework for potions class? Snape is going ta kill me.”

Hermione sighed. “Professor Snape, Seamus,” Hermione corrected. “Sure let me untangle myself from this rose bush.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noted that Professor McGonagall was talking with Severus in a niche in the hallway. McGonagall had a worried expression on her face as she gestured wildly with her hands. Severus, as usual, was still, but ever so often his lips would move as he replied to her.

Seamus’ essay was in complete disarray, and Hermione had no doubt at all why his cauldrons liked to blow up on him explosively by the time she was done helping him put things in order.

“Can’t get your own homework done, Seamus?” Draco scoffed from the nearby pillar. “Have to get help from mudblood?” There was a tinge of venom in Draco’s voice that caused Hermione to flinch even though she knew Draco was faking it.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Seamus snarled back, gathering his stuff in his arms, properly offended. He gave Hermione a look in thanks and stormed off.

At that moment, the Durmstrang Headmaster stormed by just as Professor Moody was skulking into the courtyard. Igor seemed to be in a very cranky mood, even for him, and started to take it out on Moody. Minerva and Severus, seeing the potential for a nice distraction, wandered over to “offer their assistance.”

Severus, knowing his two charges were watching him, signaled, “Go. Search the office.”

Draco and Hermione were off. Hermione slapped Draco on the cheek and stormed off. Draco stormed after her, hurling insults at her with his typical flare. By the time they had reached the corner of the corridor and out of sight, Hermione and Draco linked hands, and Hermione pulled Draco into her disillusionment, to avoid sight by any other passing students.

The classroom was open, unlike Severus’ always closed and overly warded ones. No warding blocked their entry, and the door was closed but not locked.

Draco closed the door behind them, warding the door against casual passersby and they dropped hands, dropping the disillusionment. Hermione was on all fours within seconds, her claws clicking on the stone floor as she padded towards the DADA instructors office, leaping up over the railing to avoid the stairs altogether, and growling lowly in frustration as the bulk of her body squeezed into the “small” opening of the door.

Draco followed in her wake, watching the classroom door carefully to guard their exit.

Hermione scented the air in the office with a growl, her wings pinned against her body to avoid bumping into things. The quarters was cramped, but she lifted her head in the air, beak parted as she scented the air in the office. There was a curtain pulled over the door that led to Moody’s private chambers.

“They say he’s paranoid,” Draco said softly. “But he doesn’t ward his office. That’s arrogance… or stupidity.”

Hermione sniffed through everything in the office and ended up coming back towards the curtained door. Whatever was taunting her sense of smell led her back to Moody’s chambers.

She chirped at Draco, waving her head towards the curtain and the door.

Draco pulled out his wand, passing it over the edges of the door, checking for any traps or sinister surprises. Finding nothing, he pointed his wand at the door and made a backwards “S” motion. “Alohomora,” he whispered.

The door opened with a creak with some resistance, apparently charmed to resist such spells, but not quite well enough to resist it completely. Draco poked his head in quickly, scanning the next room. There was an open window in the next room as a possible escape in case the door shut them in. “Clear,” he said, stepping into the room to make way for Hermione’s more massive bulk.

Hermione growled as she attempted to squeeze into yet another obnoxiously human sized door, pinning her wings to her body and doing her best rodent with collapsible spines impression.

Draco rushed to the window as the door closed behind them, finally managing to reset itself after Draco’s spell forced it open. The window was strangely wider than the door and had laundry hanging from it. Draco shook his head. Seeing his DADA instructors skivvies hanging on the window frame was hardly what he had signed up for.

Hermione chirped, her beak pointed to a box on the floor of the room.

Draco came over to it, wand out, as Hermione moved on to scent the rest of the room. Draco waved his wand over the box, checking again for hidden surprises, and was surprised instead to find nothing that would lash out at him. Odd for an ex-Auror that was supposedly paranoid to the point of zealousness…

He opened the box gingerly and saw that the inside was full of vials. Some were empty, some were not, but those that were not seemed to have the same thing in it.

“There is something going on with this box,” Hermione said suddenly, having shifted back into her human form. “It’s the only other thing here with the scent that is not Professor Moody’s, Harry’s, and Dumbledore.”

“Can you tell me what this is?” Draco asked, pointing to the box of unknown potions.

Hermione walked over to him quickly. She wafted her hand over the lip of the open flask and sniffed. “Polyjuice,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She opened the other flasks and wafted the scent towards her face.

“Polyjuice?” Draco repeated. “Why would he have a box of polyjuice potion?”

Hermione shook her head. “This one has been prepared to use,” she said pointing to the flask with the open mouth. “The others need hair or whatever added. They are dormant.”

“They look the same to me,” Draco admitted with a frown.

“They smell different,” Hermione explained. “I don’t think an entirely human nose could tell the difference.”

“Can we… mess him up a little?” Draco asked. “I don’t think we should just let him have 3 batches of polyjuice sitting around waiting for whoever’s hair to be put in it.”

Hermione had a grin on her face. “Brilliant.” She pulled out a small vial from her robe and a dropper and dripped a bright green drop of something into each of the polyjuice vials.

“What the hell is that, Ari?” Draco hissed.

“Armadillo bile,” Hermione answered.

“What?” Draco sputtered. “Who the hell carries around a random vial of armadillo bile?”

Hermione looked at him.

Draco sighed. “You and my godfather, I swear to Merlin…. But how is armadillo bile going to help?”

“Polyjuice was never meant for human transfiguration into an animal,” Hermione explained. “The results are… unbecoming to a human.”

“You saying if he takes this doctored polyjuice that he’s going to turn into an armadillo?” Draco hissed.

“No,” Hermione corrected. “I’m saying he’s going to be something stuck in between if he is the one using it.”

Draco’s eyes widened.

“Come on, let’s try to figure out what’s in this chest over there,” Hermione said, jerking her head towards the iron-bound chest at the foot of Moody’s bed.

“I swear if it’s more knickers…” Draco warned.

Hermione rolled her eyes at partner in breaking and entering.

“Shouldn’t we bottle a sample of that polyjuice that was already fixed?” Draco said, pointing to the open flask.

Hermione slapped her forehead. “Good idea,” she said, pulling out an empty vial from her robes and pouring a little of it into it.” She handed it to Draco, who stashed it into his robe to give to his godfather later.

They closed the small box, leaving it as they found it, minus a sample of the polyjuice potion. They checked the trunk simultaneously, both frowning as they found a locking spell upon it, yet strangely nothing else.

“Who locks up their underwear and clothes, anyway?” Draco grunted.

Hermione shrugged. Pointing her wand at the chest, she said, “Alohomora.”

The chest burst into motion, opening, startling the pair a little with how violently it did, giving a strangely echoing clang as though it were the entrance to a larger and more empty cavern.

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances, held their wands out suspiciously, and then very slowly looked over the lip of the trunk and inside.

“It’s… a room in there?” Draco boggled.

Hermione peered in shortly after him. “Is that a person?” Her lips parted as she automatically tasted the scent coming from down below. The scent was not as strong as when she was in her gryphon form, but it was strong enough to recognize. “That’s the man I’ve been scenting.”

“This complicates things,” Draco said softly. “Come on, let’s try to get him out of there. He looks… unconscious.”

He pulled a miniature coil of rope from his robe pocket and tapped his wand to it, making it full sized. He tied it around his waist and knotted the other end in a few places.

“And you think I carry odd things in my robes?” Hermione muttered, falling onto all fours as her body shifted.

Draco snorted as he tied the robe around her body behind her forelegs. Hermione backed up, making the rope line taut as she grabbed the line in her beak and slowly lowered Draco down the chest’s opening. She waited nervously, praying silently that now would not be the time for Professor Moody to return to his chambers.

A few minutes later, a tug on the line signaled her, and she began to pace backwards, pulling the robe back up slowly. Draco’s hands came up over the chest opening and pulled himself up out of the chest. He reached in, grabbing the rope line and helped hoist the victim up out of the cavernous chest.

The unconscious man, dressed only in his skivvies, looked disturbingly like their DADA Professor, save he was missing the unnerving eyeball and… apparently his leg.

Draco undid the rope from himself and off Hermione, returning it to his robe. “Now what do we do? We can’t just drag him out the corridor in front of Merlin knows how many people. We can’t escape that bloody eye anyway.”

“And where are we going to take him?” Hermione pondered out-loud as she shifted back into her human form. “If this is the real Mad-Eye Moody, mind you who would polyjuice a prisoner to look like yourself…?”

Draco shook his head. “Not safe to take to any of our regular safe places until we know what’s really going on. We have to wait for word from Severus, and we can’t be around when this guy wakes up and sees us.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, the link between her and her Master was very blank, telling her that he was shielding extremely intentionally and absorbed with what he was doing. She would get no help from that front.

“Remus,” she said at last. “He could run cover for us.”

“Brilliant,” Draco said, dragging the unconscious Moody towards the window. “But first, we get the hell out of this room.”

Hermione rushed up to the open window and looked down. At the same time Draco and her exchanged glances as the looked down at the body of the unconscious man at their feet.

Draco seemed to think of something, and he pulled out his wand, pointing it their unconscious charge. The man’s body shrank into the body of a pale ferret.

Hermione flicked her eyes over to look Draco in the eyes.

“What?” Draco said defensively. “He’s lighter now!”

He picked up the ferret and gestured with his head to Hermione to get a move on.

Hermione sighed, leaping onto the window ledge and flinging herself out into open air, her shape changing as her huge wings flapped to keep her aloft. Draco waved his wand to retract all of his wards to leave the classroom and chambers free of his tampering and sent a spell zinging towards the open chest to close it back up, then leapt onto Hermione’s back, clinging to her neck with one arm as his other cradled the ferret body close to himself.

The moment he was in place on her back, Hermione caught a thermal up, disillusioning herself and her passengers from prying eyes. She dove between the parapets of Hogwarts and headed for the window she knew would lead her to Professor Lupin’s office and hopefully… answers to a growing list of questions.

 

 

 

 

 


	19. May-Eye and the Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus covers for the duo.  
> Severus deals with Hermione's teeth.  
> Ron does his best to make Hermione's night at the Yule Ball as horrible as possible.

Chapter 19: Mad-Eye and the Yule Ball

Remus, as it was, made a wonderful scapegoat for the finding of Mad-Eye Moody the First or perhaps the second depending on what order the score card was running.

Lupin helped craft an excuse for the two rescuers involving his heightened werewolf senses combined with the “tip-off” Severus and Minerva had “sent” him had allowed him to miraculously find and rescue the man who, after waiting an hour and finding he did not turn into someone random bloke named Fando McGillicutty, appeared to actually be the real Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody had been layered with so many binding spells and multiple layers of the Imperious Curse that it took Remus about an hour to untangle the ex-Auror from the depths of his enchantment without traumatising the man further.

Hermione and Draco had watched with attentive curiosity, having never seen Lupin work such intricacy of spell-work before outside of the classroom. Realising that the man was indeed talented in unravelling the effects of the Dark Arts, it was easy to see why Dumbledore had appointed him as the DADA instructor the year previous. That aside, however, it seemed as though teaching the History of Magic was bringing more colour back to his face and a little more health to his body, perhaps due, at least in part, to a great amount of stress having been relieved from his life thanks to Sirius’ redemption. Regardless of the reason, Lupin set about his magical tasks with far more intensity, garnering no small amount of respect from both Draco and Hermione.

“Hermione, Draco,” Lupin said as he cast his wand over Moody’s still unconscious body. “He might be waking soon. You need to clear out of here and get to your next class. Treat everything as normal until the stories get back to you. I’ve sent for Sirius to assist me in your alibi.”

“Yes, Professor,” they chimed.

“And use the…” Lupin started to say as Hermione and Draco leapt out the open window and fled into the sky. “Door,” he finished with a sigh. “Kids.”

Remus unstoppered a potion bottle and poured it into Moody’s mouth. “I don’t know how you got into this mess, Alastor,” he said with a sigh, “but let’s see if we can get you out of it.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You’re lucky she knows your real face, Draco,” Severus droned as he carefully pointed his wand at Hermione’s mouth and realigned her teeth. “I’m not sure I would have been able to save you from her retribution if she thought otherwise.”

Hermione stood still as Severus put her teeth back to normal, or at least as close to normal as he could remember them being. For the last few hours, she had suffered through having obnoxious beaver teeth and the fangs of a sabre toothed Smilodon jutting out from her mouth, and while Madam Pomfrey had been good about adjusting her teeth back to normal size, she had not seemed to notice that it was not normal for someone like Hermione to have sharp elongated fangs.

“Poppy must be getting senile in her stress from tending all the injuries this term,” Severus said with a shake of his head. “What normal person goes around with bloody fangs like a vampire?”

Hermione giggled and Severus silenced her with a glare.

“Be still,” he groused, carefully reshaping her fangs into normal size human incisors. He stepped back from her, releasing her jaw.

Hermione rubbed her tingling gums and smiled up at Severus.

Severus shook his head. “Shouldn’t mess with a lady’s teeth, Draco,” he scolded. “What got into you, anyway?”

Draco looked a little sheepish. “I was aiming at Potter.”

Severus flicked his eyes over to glare at his godson. “Your aim requires refinement.”

Draco cast his gaze upward. “It’s not my fault she pushed him out of the way.”

“Bad enough I had to insult my own Apprentice in front of the entire class of Slytherin,” Severus grunted. “Maybe I should have let her keep her fangs and sink them into your neck.”

Hermione blushed as Draco slumped his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Hermione, Severus.”

Hermione yanked Draco closer by his lopsided dress tie, adjusting the horribly hanging example of men’s fashion. “Who taught you how to tie a tie anyway, Draco Malfoy?” she said with a sniff.

Draco averted his eyes, looking to Severus for help.

“Do not blame me for your lack of tie tying ability, Draco,” Severus said sternly. “Who do you think taught Hermione how to do yours?”

Draco blushed as Hermione finished adjusting his tie.

“You look rather dashing in dress robes, Draco,” Hermione smirked at him. “Even better when your tie is straight.”

Severus smirked and pulled out an elongated box from his robes. He pulled a necklace out from the box and laid it across her neck, gently fastening the clasp at the back of her neck. It was a delicate silver chain that wove itself into an equally delicate hippogriff. As it lay across her neck, tiny wings on the hippogriff flapped, an echo of a certain miniature hippogriff.

Vik poked his beak out from her hair and chirped his tiny approval. Severus extended one finger and gently rubbed the tiny hippogriff under the chin.

Hermione looked down at the necklace and back up at Severus. “Thank you,” she said, a genuine smile upon her face.

Severus met her eyes. “You are welcome.” He turned and paced. “Be careful at the ball. The real Moody is still weak. Albus has whisked him away to a safe place until he can stand on his own. If our impostor has figured out his captive is gone, then he will be especially desperate. If, by some miracle he has not, who knows what he has in plan for us.”

Hermione and Draco nodded grimly.

“That being said,” Severus continued. “Try to have… fun.” Severus cast his gaze upward, awkwardly.

Two sets of arms wrapped around Severus’ waist as Draco and Hermione hugged him tightly. The Potion Master placed his hands on their heads lightly. “Go. I will see you at the ball.

Draco and Hermione smiled up at him and dashed out the exit portal with their practised retreat of stealth.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry Potter saw Hermione Granger for the first time four years after meeting her. She was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him… or rather past him with a shy smile upon her face. Her hair was pulled up in a graceful cascade across her shoulders, and her robes… were elegant beyond anything he had ever seen. All the other formal dress robes he had seen looked like dresses, but not these.

Hermione’s robes fell about her body and shoulders with a drape that seemed both both elegant and traditional that he would have expected from someone like Professor McGonagall, whose fashions were notoriously of the Wizarding world. Her outer robe fell about her shoulders and back like the cast of fairy wings, both gossamer and iridescent.

As she glided down the staircase, she walked with the stature of one who was accustomed to being obeyed, and even the tilt of her chin was cast slightly upward that reminded Harry of his transfiguration professor.

As Hermione came down to the landing, Viktor Krum approached her. He held out his arm to her, his head inclined as he clicked his heels together and bowed to her. Hermione placed her arm in his as Viktor turned to lead her through the doors to the Great Hall. For a moment, Hermione’s eyes flicked to Harry, making a disbelieving face to him that was the only indicator that she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then, her gaze flicked forward once more as she walked with Viktor into the Hall.

Harry gulped, suddenly feeling very subconscious. Parvati tugged on his arm, and Harry shook his head, striding forward awkwardly as though his feet were too big for his shoes.

“Is that… Hermione Granger?” Harry heard a female voice. “With Viktor Krum?”

“No,” came Ron’s voice. “Absolutely not.”

The waltzing music started so abruptly that Harry was taken off guard as Parvati hissed “Harry, take my waist!”

They danced awkwardly, with Harry half tripping over himself in an effort to be graceful. He twirled Parvati as he remembered to do from McGonagall’s lessons, trying not to bring more attention to himself with his own ineptness.

Beside him, Cedric was dancing with Cho with an almost stiff elegance that covered for any awkwardness he may or may not have had. Fleur was spinning gracefully in the arms of her date as well, making Harry feel even more self-conscious. Parvati seemed content with being in the spotlight with Harry for the time-being, but he was hardly feeling any more comfortable.

But Hermione… she and Krum danced as though they were the only ones on the dance floor, even when the Hogwarts Professors joined them on the floor and students swirled around them with their own dates. Krum’s formal robes, both foreign and majestic, seemed ever the match to Hermione’s more traditional dress robes.

Viktor, stately in his own right, commanded the dance floor with the same presence he did the Quidditch pitch. But while all eyes seemed to come back to him, his eyes were focused on Hermione.

The Durmstrang students, who were scattered about the dance floor in all directions, danced with their dates with no care for blood status. Their presence, however, commanded something in a way that most of the Slytherin wished to be like. No one in the room dared say a word against Krum’s choice in date for the Ball, and it seemed, much to Harry’s surprise, that Draco Malfoy eyed the sight with a neutral expression instead of the arrogance that normally hung upon him.

He watched around the dance floor as the waltz ended for people he knew, and he saw Professor Dumbledore dancing gracefully with Professor McGonagall. Hagrid was dancing with the Headmaster of Beauxbaton's, and even the Headmaster of Durmstrang was dancing with another Professor.

When he spotted Professor Lupin standing next to the Potion Master, a part of him startled. Even knowing how many times the wizard had saved his life or put himself in the way of something that was trying to kill him, such as Lupin himself, he still didn’t trust him. Lupin, however, did not seem to have the same hang-ups, and was chatting with the Potion Master as if discussing the weather in Bradbury. Snape scanned the room with his typical impassive expression, at one point locking gazes with him, causing Harry to cast his eyes downward in automatic, preconditioned response.

When the band had started to play, Parvati seemed restless. Harry had no desire to go back out onto the dance floor, champion or not, but Parvati seemed irritated with his lack of desire to go back out.

He danced once more with her to the more modern band, catching sight of Hermione dancing excitedly with Viktor Krum. There was an ease about her that he hadn’t seen in quite some time, and part of him knew that it was due to Ron’s treatment of her lately. He, unfortunately, had not done his friend any favours by attempting to keep the peace with Ron, which ended up being him siding with Ron on multiple occasions. Sometimes, Harry felt, Hermione remembered every small betrayal when it came to Ronald Weasley, starting with their first year and going on into the present. While she had forgiven him for most of his transgressions, lately it seemed, she was less willing to do so.

If anything, Hermione had been even more succinct in her tutoring when Harry had asked her for help, almost ruthless in intonation and proper gestures, and virtually impossible to read unless she was purposely looking at him. It was then, and only then, that she’d have that particular smile he remembered her for, the warmth in her expression, and the forgiveness for whatever stupidity he had transgressed in the past week.

As the latest dance slowed down, Harry let Parvati off the dance floor and sat down next to Ron, who was sitting next to a very disenchanted looking Padma Patil.

Ron was glaring off into the dancing crowd, glaring at Viktor Krum like he had committed some cardinal sin that only he knew about. Harry shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure how to hand the situation. On the one hand, Hermione was having a wonderful time, for once, and on the other hand, Ron looked like he was suffering from severe constipation. Ron’s atrociously old-fashioned robes, unlike Hermione’s traditional fare that had some taste to it, did nothing to flatter Ron’s figure in the slightest.

“He’s a ruddy pumpkin head, isn’t he?” Ron snarked.

So much for the hero worship of Viktor Krum. Ron’s behaviour lately had been ranging from very hot to terribly cold on the flip of a coin. Feelings of awkwardness aside, Harry was happy to see his friend finally enjoying herself outside of the library and, even more miraculous, outside of Snape’s horrible detentions which he could only imagine how horrible they truly were day in and day out. Considering most of the detentions she had gained were helping him in potions class and defending him in said potions class, he really felt he owed her a little more consideration.

“Leave off, Ron,” Harry stood up for his friend. “Up until now, you’ve been practically worshipping the ground Krum walks on. Why are you being such a git over it now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ron blurted.

“Not really,” Harry remarked.

Ron glared at him. “He’s too old for her. He’s using her.”

“He’s dancing with her, in front of all of our professors, Ron,” Harry countered. “What is he going to to do to her that isn’t going to be witnessed by… everyone?”

Ron pshed, and turned his head away. Padma looked even more disgusted, if that was even possible.

Hermione and Viktor were walking away from the dance floor. The little hippogriff, that had become inseparable from his fiery mistress, chirped and flapped his wings excitedly. Viktor smiled down at it, using one finger to scratch it under the chin. Even the hippogriff seemed to be enjoying itself, decked out in its own version of formal attire that included royal blue ribbons and a shiny silver collar.

Viktor bowed, kissing the back of Hermione’s hand, and walked off towards the food tables.

Hermione approached with a flush in her cheeks. “Great evening, isn’t it?” she said warmly. “Viktor went off to get drinks, would you care to join us?”

Parvati perked up at the invitation. “That would be wonderful, Hermione.” She stood up to join her.

Harry, feeling like letting his date walk off to join another group, even if it was Hermione, would be a little… ungentlemanly, stood up with her. “Sure, Hermione.”

“No, I would not care to join you and Viktor,” Ron snarled.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What’s got your wand in a knot?”

“He’s from Durmstrang! You’re fraternising with the enemy!” Ron blurted.

“Perhaps, you should get to know me, before you call me names,” Viktor’s voice rumbled as he came to Hermione’s side. He handed her an ornate crystal goblet that he had fetched from the far tables.

Padma’s eyes widened as she raked over Viktor with her own version of hero worship. “May I join you as well, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at her like she was daft. “Of course, Padma. Viktor, these are my friends. Parvati, Harry, Padma,” she listed off. “And Ron.”

“You are,” Viktor began. “Share same House?”

Parvati and Padma nodded.

“It is pleasure,” Viktor said, clicking his heels together as he bowed his head. “Hermione tells great tings about her friends.”

The group blushed together at this, but Ron seemed to be flushed for a different reason. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re all about,” he said, standing up.

Viktor eyed Ron with his black eyes. “Vat exactly, do tink dat is?”

“You’re using her,” Ron accused. “You don’t care about being her friend.”

The Bulgarian Seeker, who had been standing at ease within the group until that point, stiffened. “You dare accuse me of dishonouring a woman against her will?”

Vik, the hippogriff, chose that moment to poke his head out from Hermione’s hair and make scolding sounds at Ron.

Viktor turned to face the little hippogriff as some realisation seemed to cross his face. He turned back to Ron. “You. One who broke her hippogriff. Now, I know who you are.”

“Yeah, well she just fixes everything, doesn’t she?” Ron said venomously as he glared at the ribbon covered hippogriff on Hermione’s shoulder. “That stupid thing got me detention in the attic, and it isn’t even real.”

Harry was staring at the cute little hippogriff hiding in Hermione’s hair with a smile when Ron’s mouth committed another crime against Hermione. “Ron, what’s gotten in to you?”

Viktor, reached over and touched Hermione’s arm, which had started to tremble. “Is real to her,” he said dangerously. “Is all that matters. As friend. You should be happy…when friend happy.”

“Then she’s no friend of mine,” Ron spat, grabbing Padma by the arm and started to drag her out the Great Hall before she could even realise what was happening to protest.

“Ron, let me go!” Padma pleaded. “You’re hurting my arm.”

“Is there… something… going on here?” Severus’ voice was both velvet and venomous. The Potion Master had appeared like spectre, silent and deadly.

Immediately, the conversation stopped. Padma pulled her arm away from Ron, and Hermione put her arm around her briefly in comfort. Vik hopped onto Padma’s shoulder and chirped pleasantly, bringing a smile to Padma’s face, quickly making her forget about Ron’s atrocious behaviour. She cooed softly at Vik the Hippogriff, rubbing his miniature wings with a smile.

“No, Professor,” Harry piped up. “There was just… a disagreement. It’s… been settled.”

“No, it’s not been settled,” Ron growled, breaking Harry’s attempt to give Ron a safe out. “What’s with you, Hermione? Ever since you fell in love with that stupid little piece of rock, you’ve been forgetting who your friends are.”

Ron made a grab for Vik, as if to fling him again, but this time Vik fled with a squeak and dove into Severus’ back hair.

Snape’s black eyes bored into Ronald as his hand very carefully wrapped around Vik. Harry noticed that Snape’s expression was disgusted, even as he released the wriggling hippogriff to Hermione’s shoulder. Strangely enough, while the little creature had avoided Ron, it did not protest overly being moved by Snape’s pale hand.

“Keep better care of your constructs, Ms. Granger,” he droned.

“Yes, Professor Snape,” Hermione said, casting her eyes down.

“I recommend you return to your dormitory, Mr. Weasley,” Severus droned, “before you do something unbecoming of your House in front of your Head of House.”

Professor McGonagall was approaching from behind Snape’s back, looking both curious and concerned.

Ron grit his teeth together and fled the room, storming out like a sudden squall. “Whatever,” he said in parting.

Harry watched as the tension seemed to lessen now that Ron had left. Viktor’s hand, which had been very purposely touching Hermione’s the entire time, patted her skin gently.

“The desserts have been put out on the tables,” McGonagall announced, and Harry realised he was starving.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he raked his gaze over each of them with equal severity.

Viktor, however, did not seem phased by Snape’s demeanour. Perhaps, he was used to his own Headmaster, who seemed to be cut from a similar ill-tempered cloth. The Seeker seemed to be searching for something in Snape’s impassive expression and even darker black eyes than his own. “By your leave, Master, I take Her-my-own to dinner.” Viktor bowed his head ceremoniously.

Harry boggled at the ritual and ceremony. All of the Durmstrang students seemed to be extremely observant of a wide range of formalities that Harry was particularly glad Hogwarts was limited to a minor few. Snape, he knew, was a Master of Potions, but no one actually called him thus, as far as he knew. Professor and Sir were hard enough when it came to the Potions Master. A part of him wondered if this lack of respect from those at Hogwarts was part of why the man was so abrasive.

Snape regarded Viktor with a piercing gaze, and their eyes met for quite some time before the Potion Master inclined his head dismissively. “You may.” With that, Severus had turned and left, his robe billowing behind him like a flag in the wind.

Viktor lifted his head and took Hermione’s arm. “I hear goulash on menu tonight,” he said cheerfully. “Shall we?”

The couple led the way to the feasting tables with Harry, Padma, and Parvati following behind. Harry figured each of them carried even more respect for Viktor Krum, who had not only stood up to Snape, but had received a response that wasn’t a dressing down. Perhaps, Harry thought to himself, he could learn a few things from Viktor Krum.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione blushed as Viktor walked with her for quite some time before he escorted her to the portrait to the Gryffindor Common Room. He had not, since Ron’s earlier rudeness, left her side. He had also, since his meeting with Severus, seemed smug.

“You do have Master, Her-my-own,” he said as if in triumph. “I knew you too good not to attract such favour.”

Hermione blushed harder. “I did not lie, Viktor. I do not have a Master in the manner you think I do.”

“Maybe not like where I come from,” Viktor conceded. “But Master he is. Your safety he does attend.”

Hermione had to ask. “How did you figure?”

Viktor smiled at her, he lifted his hand to stroke the hippogriff on her shoulder. “Little one flew to him for safety. Means you trust him. Strong trust.”

Hermione touched the little hippogriff with her hand and smiled.

“Do not worry,” Viktor said as they approached the portrait. “I do not tell.” He lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed the top it gently. “Goodnight, Her-my-own. I had glorious time.”

Hermione smiled genuinely at him. “Goodnight, Viktor. I did too.”

With that, Viktor clicked his heels together and bowed. He turned on his heels and marched down the staircases and out of sight.

Vik chirped cheerfully from her shoulder and she scooped him off her shoulder and snuggled him close to her face. “You really are something, aren’t you, little guy?”

The hippogriff fluttered his wings in reply, staring up at her adoringly, shaking his tail so his ribbons rustled.

“Password?” the Fat Lady asked as she approached.

“Wake of the storm,” Hermione replied automatically.

“I’m sorry, dear, that isn’t the password anymore,” the Fat Lady apologised.

“When did it change?” Hermione demanded. “I just used this password today!”

“Head Girl changed it tonight after there was a report of possible password sharing. I’m sorry dear,” the portrait said sadly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

:Master?: Hermione sent out her mind voice with a touch of sleepy annoyance.

:Yes, my Apprentice?” Severus answered her, his mind voice seemingly just as tired.

:Someone convinced the Head Girl to change the password due to password sharing,: Hermione said wearily. :Conveniently when everyone but myself came back.:

Silence was her only answer for a minute.

:I transfigured you a bed in the back room,: came his reply. :Try not to snore too loudly.:

Hermione sent him a flood of indignation.

He gave her the equivalent of a mental chuckle.

Hermione trudged back down the stairs and down the hall towards the dungeon, disillusioning herself the moment she hit the shadows so none of the portraits would see her pass by.

She slipped into Severus’ chambers with a yawn, making sure the portal closed behind her properly and warded it with all the customary layers she knew her Master kept while he was sleeping.

She saw Severus sitting in one of the armchairs in the main room. He stood as she entered, picking up a pile of blankets, a wash basin, towels, and a soft fabric dressing gown.

Hermione took the bundle gratefully, walking into his side and burying her head against his chest as she hugged his waist with her free arm.

Severus touched her head lightly.

She pulled away with a sigh of sleepiness and smiled up at him. “Goodnight, my Master. Thank you for your rescue tonight. Well, at the Ball and now.”

Severus snorted softly. “You are welcome. Sleep well.”

Hermione walked into the connecting room and then into the small storeroom that she figured would be the only “back room” that would have enough room for a small bed. Sure enough, as she passed the old shelves, a small bed behind a privacy screen was waiting for her. A dim, but passable mage light hung in the air to mark the location so she didn’t trip over anything.

Tired beyond belief, she quickly made up the bed, threw the formal dress robes over the privacy screen, slipped into the dressing gown, washed her face in the wash basin, and face-planted into the comfortable pillow that practically sucked her into itself.

Vik chirped softly, snuggling into her neck, and she was asleep shortly after, oblivious to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, I have painted Ron as a horrible git in this story, and I normally like to give the boy a little more credit, even though he’s not, IMHO, Hermione material by any stretch of the means. In my defence, becoming a teenager is a mixed bag of emotional turmoil that often comes mixed with even more issues that make me wonder how we even survive adolescence. Between hormones, peer pressure, chemical brain changes, and all sorts of other things… mix in angry wizard abilities, and it’s a wonder any wizard survives being a teenager. I apologise to those of you who really love Ron’s character, but while I may have him redeem himself in the future, at least right now, he’s a sorry arsed git who can’t even realise he needs to be remorseful for forgiveness… and he doesn’t even realise he’s the one who should be begging for it. Maybe I should put in a vote for people to tell me if they want me to write in an epic Hermione kicks Ron’s arse chapter in which Draco and a slew of other characters come together in solidarity saying “FINALLY!” rofl.   
> On that note, my time-out from my paper writing is now up. Back to work with me.


	20. Mad-Eye for the Wizard Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house-elf, Winky, unintentionally gives away a secret in her drunken caterwauling.

**Chapter 20: Mad-Eye for the Wizard Guy**

Hermione woke groggily in the dark, not quite sure how she got where she was or even where she was even was. A soft chirp sounded next to her head and there was a warmth against her neck.

“Mmrrph,” she grunted as her hand cupped Vik and dragged him against her chest. She boggled a little on how real the little hippogriff seemed. She could feel Vik “breathing” against her chest, and his little body was warm with a spot on resemblance to life so accurate that it was like having Crookshanks curled up next to her.

Vik wriggled against her, and she swung her legs off the bed and stood, yawning before the day had even begun. Transferring Vik to her shoulder, she made the bed, grabbed her robes from the previous night off the screen, and groggily shuffled out of the room and headed towards the main sitting room.

Severus was already up, and a part of her wondered if her Master ever really slept, even though she knew he did. He was a human, not a construct. Then again, perhaps that analogy was faulty, because Vik “slept,” experienced “high energy” times, and “drowsy” moments…

Snape was sitting on the couch, drinking tea as he read the book in his lap by the firelight. He hadn’t bothered to light the lights any further than the fireplace.

:May I join you, Master?” Hermione yawned into his mind, too lazy to even attempt verbal communication.

Severus grunted, apparently too tired to do either.

Hermione sat down next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her nostrils flared as she took in his scent and she relaxed completely. Viktor hadn’t been wrong. Severus was her safe place.

Little Vik, as if to prove her train of thoughts, snuggled up to Severus’ neck, giving a soft chirp.

Tea was hovering by her face, and Hermione moved reluctantly even as she took the offering gratefully. She nursed the cup until the liquid ambrosia warmed her from head to toe. “Thank you,” she managed to articulate.

A grunt was her only answer. Awake, her Master may be, but talkative was not always guaranteed.

After a few minutes of staring into the gloom of the room, Severus inhaled deeply. “I suppose it is time to remedy your lock out problem,” he said in a rumble that sounded more like Crookshanks purring than a human voice.

Hermione stood, throwing on her robes from the previous night over her dressing gown and waiting, somewhat groggily, for Severus to escort her floo.

Severus threw powder into the floo. “Wake up, Remus, you lazy sod.”

Groggy grumbling sounded through the floo. “Severus? What is it? It’s not even dawn, man.”

“Someone decided to change the password on Gryffindor tower last night,” Severus grumped. “Hermione was locked out.”

There was a crashing sound that sounded like Lupin had knocked over something and then knocked over something else trying to pick up whatever that first something was. “Send her through, Severus. I’ll take care of it.”

Severus inclined his head to Hermione, gesturing for her to enter the floo. :Avert your eyes when you go through,: he rumbled into her mind. :He tends to sleep like he just ran through a forest and collapsed somewhere.:

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she took the handful of floo powder and dropped it. “Lupin’s quarters,” she squeaked in a tiny voice as the green flames took her away.

“Merlin!” came Lupin’s voice and a crashing sound. “I uh… bloody hell.” More crashing noises.

The connection went dead, and Severus felt the flush of embarrassment from Hermione’s mind as it did so. Snape shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Werewolves. Couldn’t live with them. Somehow couldn’t live without them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hermione! Where have you been?” McGonagall asked as she pulled her from her floo. The deputy Headmistress was robed only in her morning dressing gown.

“The password was changed, Professor,” Hermione said tiredly. “I couldn’t get in.”

“What?” Minerva’s face turned into a frown. “I was told everyone was accounted for last night. If I had known, I would never have allowed Miss Goodberry to change it.”

Hermione gave her a weary look.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” McGonagall tutted. “The password is currently ‘spiced cider.’ I’ll have a word with Miss Goodberry to figure out how this happened.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s okay, Professor. I’m a little embarrassed, but no harm done.”

Minerva shook her head. “Very well. Off you go. I’m sure you’ll want to wash up after your long night.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said with a smile. “What I wouldn’t give for a long bath.”

Minerva smiled briefly and shooed her out of her antechamber with a worried look on her face. With the impostor running around Hogwarts, the last thing she wanted was one of her lion cubs sleeping out in the hallways locked out of their dormitory.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A house elf was staggering down the center aisle of the Great Hall, looking as knackered as one of the Team Irish from the Quidditch World Cup during their post-game festivities.

“What the bloody hell is that elf going on about?” Ron muttered as he stuffed sausage into his mouth. Ron seemed to be in a better mood than the previous night, not that better necessarily meant improved.

Harry had an odd expression on his face. “Hogwarts have house elves?”

“Psh,” Ron muttered. “Course they have house elves. But that one is a ruddy failure. Good house elves you rarely if ever see them work. They prefer it that way.”

Harry made a face, remembering Dobby. Dobby certainly didn’t have a problem showing himself to Harry. Dobby wasn’t exactly… normal by house-elf standards, from what he had learned, but could they be that different?

The house-elf that was staggering down the aisle of the Great Hall was moaning loudly about being set free, disgrace, and failing to protect her Master. She clasped a brown bottle in one hand, and was dragging it behind her like one would attempt to drag a log. Oblivious to the fact that hundreds of students were looking at her strangely, the house-elf was in her own little world of what could only be emotional upheaval.

Hermione walked into the hall with a tired expression on her face. Harry smiled at her and waved. “’Ere Hermione,” he called. He passed down the plate of sausages that Rob had managed not to eat all of.

“Good morning, Harry,” she replied to him, quaffing a goblet of juice before even attempting the sausage.

“You look tired, Hermione,” Harry said sympathetically. “Not sleep well?”

“I slept fine, Harry,” Hermione said. “I just woke up earlier than I intended.”

“Extra comfy floor, I’m sure,” Ron said under his breath.

“What was that, Ron?” Hermione said in a tone that was both soft and dangerous. It reminded Harry of something he couldn’t quite place.

Ron was stuffing his face with cereal, and Hermione was looking at him with a gaze that would have made Snape proud, had the two been on talking terms. Harry shuddered. Maybe Hermione really had been spending too many detentions with Snape.

Professor Moody was staggering in with his half limping gate, looking perturbed. He looked at Harry as he passed, but didn’t linger.

As Harry stuffed more cereal into his mouth, he saw Draco walking in behind Professor Snape. Malfoy looked completely neutral. Pansy Parkinson was waving towards him, but Snape guided Malfoy to a different tablet. Apparently whatever Snape was telling him was serious, because Malfoy only nodded and sat at the table with a an expression that was far less arrogant than usual. At least least there was someone Malfoy showed some measure of respect.

There was a commotion coming from up front, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione both looked up front with a snap of their head.

“Master!” the house-elf yelled drunkenly. “Master! You’re here! You’ve forgiven Winky!”

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered. Rustles of whispering was going on throughout the hall.

“Get off me, you drunken sow,” Moody growled, shaking his bad leg that the house-elf was clinging to in a groveling desperation.

Students were halting their conversations now, all of them looking up towards the front. Professors that had already sat up at the high table were starting to turn their heads towards Moody.

“Master, please!” Winky groveled. “Protected yous I did. Found yous again! Master Barty, we leave together, please!”

“AHHHHHGGKKK!” Moody snarled, kicking Winky off himself. The house-elf went flying against the far well with a sickening crack. Moody took a swig from his flask, leaning heavily on his walking cane.

Hermione was suddenly on her feet, shooing the first years back from the table with a hiss. Harry looked from table to table, and saw prefects doing the same for the Ravenclaw table. Cedric had his wand out and his House was moving back from the tables. Draco was barking orders to the Slytherin House, sending students stumbling backwards to the far back of the hall.

Professors were swarming up front like angry hornets, some were guiding students back in the Hall, some were forming a semi circle around Moody, and some, like Professor Snape, were staring so intently at Moody that Harry thought Moody was to burst into flames at any moment.

“Arrrkkkkk!” Moody choked, clutching his collar. He started tearing at his face and hair, he tore off the unnerving magical eye as his face seemed to both melt and reform at the same time. His metal leg clattered to the ground as a skinnier leg grew from the stump he had previously.

Baleful and unnervingly unstable eyes glared out from a face Harry had never seen before, and the man who had been Moody gave a roar of frustration.

Winky, delerious and loyal to the end, crawled towards her supposed Master, crying for him to come “home” with her.

“You… ruined… EVERYTHING!” the wizard snarled. He held out his wand and pointed it Winky. “Avra—”

Harry saw a blur of movement beside him. Hermione pointed her wand, “Expelliarmus!” she yelled, sending the Barty’s wand flying off towards the High Table.

Barty looked murderously at Hermione, his face twisted with his own insanity. “Haaaaakkkkk!” his throat made a gravely sound that resembled gravel being scraped across a chalkboard. He started to head towards Hermione.

Suddenly, the sons of Durmstrang slammed their staves down on the stone of the Great Hall, sending up sparks, they went to their knees as they clasped their walking staves, and put their wands to their mouths and blew, causing fiery serpents and phoenixes to fly out from their wands and form a wall of fire that surrounded the area around the man who once was Moody.

Barty roared in anger, but then doubled over once more. His body quaked as if he were containing his anger, but it was not anger that was boiling up from his body.

His face was elongating into a scaled leathery snout. His hands were sprouting impossibly long digging claws as a plated tail burst from his pants. Diamond shaped ears emerged off the top of his head as his eyes seemed to shrink into small beady ones.

He staggered through the fire, his clothes going to flames, but continued on. His body, no longer resembling a man, was some combination of armadillo and man. He swiped out his claws in desperation, heading towards where Cedric was casting a wall around his House-mates. Cedric turned to intercept, but Barty was coming in fast.

A flash of blue stepped in front of Cedric, and the Beauxbatons let out a collective sigh, releasing countless butterflies from their bodies, but unlike the ones they had released during the Welcome Feast, these flew directly towards Barty and swirled around him frantically, tripping him up.

Barty staggered backward, letting out a howl of frustration. Suddenly his beady eyes were staring at Harry, and his claws extended. “Harry… Potter!” he growled, making a mad rush towards the black haired wizard.

Hermione gave a yell, her wand pointed at Harry, and he felt himself being flung backwards to the group of other Gryffindor. He was suddenly seeing Hermione from behind the shield that was being erected over the gathered students, keeping them behind a barrier of safety.

Draco was yelling something by the other wall, flinging stinging hexes towards Barty. The wizard gone half-armadillo turned away from Hermione and Harry, now focused on Draco.

Harry, trying to help, pointed his wand and crossed the barrier, and sent out spells of his own.

Barty spun, slashing outward with his claws, and Harry went flying backwards. The other students caught him, and Ron was screaming at him to stop trying to be a hero.

Harry checked his chest, sure he was going to see claw marks where Barty had slashed out, but there were none. He looked up and his eyes saw Hermione standing where he had been. Blood was dripping down from her robes where she had taken the hit for him, her face was twisted in pain. She swung her wand and hissed out a string of words, sending Barty flying backwards towards the High Table as Viktor came as a blur of motion from the far side of the room, pinning Hermione behind him as he slammed his staff down, casting a fire circle around them both.

As Barty landed on the other side of the room, every Professor had their wand pointed at him, even as the chain of Headmasters came running into the Great Hall from whatever meeting they had been in together.

“Immobulus!”

“Incarcerous!”

“Locomotor Wibbly!”

“Locomotor Mortis!”

“Stupefy!”

Multiple curses from multiple professors, who were no longer worried about hitting their students in the cross-fire, slammed into the wizard who had masqueraded as Alastor Moody, and he finally fell over on his face, frozen, leg-locked, roped, jelly-legged, and otherwise detained.

Harry looked around in half wonder and half panic, unsure where to keep his gaze and who to worry about. The room had suddenly been filled with students defending other students, and when it had come down to it, it hadn’t mattered what House or what School it had been. If anything it had boiled down to those that protected and those being protected against one wizard that had once worn Alastor Moody’s face.

Suddenly, all the protective wards came down. Cedric dropped to his knees as he let his walls crumble at last. The Beauxbatons were tending the first years of every House, soothing them with both words and magic. The Durmstrang students stood, recalling their walls of fire. Draco , Snape, and a number of other higher year students, who had apparently reinforced Cedric’s walls with a combined shield of their own, recalled them, crumbling to their knees as the weariness of overtaxing their magic fell upon them as well. Their linked hands fell apart as they slouched.

Harry felt a stab of guilt as he saw Hermione crumple against Viktor Krum. Blood was trailing down her arm and her robes. She held onto her wand, but her eyes were still searching the crowd, even as she breathed heavily.

Viktor yelled something out in a language Harry didn’t know, and Durmstrang students attended him. He transfigured a stretcher from the nearby overturned bench, lay Hermione down upon it, and his fellows took up the opposite end. They heaved the stretcher up, not even bothering to cast a spell to make it lighter, and dashed out of the Great Hall, carrying Hermione out towards the hospital wing.

When Harry pulled himself together enough to look up towards the High Table, he saw all of the professors and Headmasters staring down at the bound and paralyzed body before them.

“Prefects, escort your people to your Common Rooms,” Dumbledore yelled over the murmuring chatter rising around him. “Those not attending the wounded, return to your Common Rooms. Honored Guests, please return to your guest quarters. Classes are canceled for the rest of the day. Go!”

And with that, the Great Hall was on the move, and Harry was swept away in the mass exodus.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Severus,” Dumbledore said.

“Yes, Headmaster?” Severus grunted.

“Please go keep an eye on Miss Granger,” he ordered. “Make sure that he did not taint her with anything.”

Severus kept his expression painfully neutral. “Yes, Headmaster,” he said, feeling the eyes of Slytherin House upon him.

“Draco,” he snapped.

“Yes, Professor?” Draco replied.

“Escort the rest of Slytherin back to the Common Room while I attend the Headmaster’s orders,” Severus said lowly.

“Yes, Professor,” Draco answered.

Snape left the Great Hall with a flurry of fabric.

When he reached the hospital wing, Viktor Krum and a handful of his fellow students were standing guard over her bed… literally standing guard over her bed. Their posture was stiff as they spread around her bedside, keeping their backs to each other as they kept guard.

Severus approached, and the Durmstrang students bowed their heads, moving to the side to let him pass.

“She protect with us,” Viktor explained. “We guard her until she better. Is honor.”

Severus lifted a brow, but nodded to the group. Apparently Igor had not instilled selfish self-preservation into his students. It was a good thing to see that Durmstrang still held on to its honor.

Snape placed his hand to her forehead and ran his wand over her body, checking for traces of anything that might linger and harm her, but much to his relief, found nothing. Pomfrey had already bandaged her up, which he was grateful for. He knew she was no longer in pain because he, himself, felt nothing anymore. Part of him wondered if the old man knew or even suspected how close he and Hermione Granger were on a metaphysical scale. Had he sent him here to check on her because he knew? Or had he sent him here because he was the best one to check for such taints?

Severus placed one hand over hers where her hands interlocked over her blanket.

:Severus?: Her mind voice was tired and concerned.

:I’m here,: he replied softly.

:Everyone okay?: she asked.

:Yes,: he replied. :Sleep now.:

Warmth flowed through their bond. :Yes, Master.:

He felt her relax as her mind drifted off.

:Severus?:

:Yes, Hermione?:

:I’m sorry I didn’t dodge quick enough,: she whispered.

Severus squeezed her hand lightly. :You are forgiven, my Apprentice.:

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure… the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were all 17 and over, thus they were the elder class of each school (because why would you bring an entire school from each for the Tournment? No, you would bring your best and brightest to compete.)
> 
> Anyway. I figure that all of these students would not just sit on their laurels and let professors take all the hits anymore. They would be driven to protect their own and their allies, and do it with whatever they had in their arsenal. That is how I imagined the fight.
> 
> As for Harry not leaping up and instinctively knowing what spells to fling, he’s a fourth-year, which wasn’t mature enough to technically be in the Tournament to begin with, so why expect him to know all the things the upperclassman do?
> 
> The exception is Hermione and Draco, who have been training to fight, but even they cannot do as many things as they would like due to the secrecy. They trust Severus to tell them when it’s time to reveal.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the action. Now, back to work with me. *le sigh*


	21. Rest and Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny visits Hermione in the hospital wing and discovers that the Durmstrang students are guarding her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sometimes, when you put yourself into a character, and I don’t mean putting my traits into a character, that transformation of mindset carries over into your RL for a bit. It’s almost the opposite of putting “myself” into a character and instead “becoming” someone else. It can be a bit unnerving, and yet, I find it strangely comforting. You know it’s happened when someone random that has no idea what you’re interested in, or write behind closed doors at 2am due to insomnia, asks you why you are looking at them like Severus Snape or some other character (and you totally didn’t intend to!) But sometimes, I find myself standing in the kitchen drinking my tea, folding my hands just so, tilting my head perhaps in a way I would not normally, and staring through one of my family members like I’m reading their soul as I’m going through dialogue in my head. I’ve had arguments like I’m suffering from multiple personality disorder, and probably had my family and relatives ponder if I’ve just gone round the bend. What I’m trying to say, is that, I had a really odd moment this morning channelling Viktor (the bloke, not the tiny hippogriff, mind you I’ve had moments where I think I am channelling little Vik too…)where I basically couldn’t make a complete sentence in proper English and I had given myself a crazy foreign accent. I think my family thinks I’m certifiably insane, if they didn’t already know that.

**Chapter 21: Rest and Recovery**

Ginny hurried over to the Hospital Wing after Headmaster Dumbledore had given her permission to visit Hermione, and Ginny wasn’t about to wait around and let the Headmaster change his mind.

Her knowledge of the commotion that had taken place in the Great Hall while she had been sleeping in had left her brimming with questions about what had really happened. Ron had been totally unhelpful, save to mutter that Hermione had been carried off by Durmstrang and would probably be dead by morning.

Harry had been slightly more helpful, but he wasn’t really giving vivid details. All he had seen was Professor Moody kick a house-elf that was calling him Barty into a wall. Moody become another man and then that other man become… something that was more animal than man. Hermione, he said, had pushed him out of the way of the wizard they knew only as Barty, taken a hit from “the beast,” and the rest was a chaotic mix of fighting from both the upperclassman, the visitors, the Hogwarts professors… and Ginny had missed it all by sleeping in.

Ginny entered the Hospital Wing with a grunt, pushing open the heavy wooden doors with a heave. Hermione was laying back on one of the beds, but around her were four Durmstrang students that had taken up positions around her bed, standing like gargoyles keeping watch over their home. Viktor was standing by her bedside. He had his hand held out towards her, fire forming into a fire-bird that hopped onto her bed and sang sweetly.

Hermione looked at him with a smile as the bird flapped its wings and poofed in a wisp of smoke. “Do you all study fire manipulation in Durmstrang?”

“No,” Viktor said with a nod. “But, Aleksander is better. Lazar prefers water. Valko adores earth. And Petya,” Viktor gestured to the student nearest him. “Petya full of hot hair.”

Petya sputtered, averting his eyes.

Hermione laughed. “You know, you don’t have to stand guard around my bed. I should be fine.”

The group of Durmstrang shook their heads.

“Do you plan on lurking there like a crocodile in a river full of wildebeests, Ms. Weasley?” a low voice startled Ginny half out of her skin.

Ginny gulped as the Potion Master strode by her, robes whipping behind him. In his hand was a goblet filled with something that looked absolutely foul.

The “guards” around Hermione’s bed, including Viktor, bowed out of the way of Snape like the parting of the seas. Ginny didn’t really blame them. She felt like shaking in her boots as it was, just by hearing his voice. Yet, strangely, the Durmstrang students kept their heads bowed. Unlike the students of Hogwarts, there was a deference of respect, and Snape seemed tolerant of their presence.

Snape knelt beside Hermione’s bedside. “The Headmaster wishes me to insure you are untainted by any residue from your attack, Ms. Granger, if you will… indulge him.”

Hermione nodded, her eyes flicking to Ginny almost apologetically.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably as Snape ran his wand over her friend, but Hermione did not show the discomfort she knew she would have had if their positions were reversed.

“I need you to drink this, Ms. Granger,” Snape said in a low voice. “It will not be… a pleasant experience.”

Hermione, much to Ginny’s dismay, simply nodded, grasping the goblet in her hand and taking a deep breath. She looked up at Snape with a look of trepidation.

Snape simply stared at her, his dark eyes were unreadable.

Hermione seemed to come to a resolution, and brought the goblet to her lips. The steaming green liquid sloshed sickeningly as she drank it. Her face twisted into a frown as she swallowed it. She trembled, her hands beginning to shake, her grip on the goblet was failing.

Snape brought his hand up to the drinking vessel, his hand covered hers as he helped guide the goblet to her lips.

Hermione continued to drink, but her body began to shudder and slump forward. The Potion Master caught her, stiffly, taking the goblet out of her hands and placing it on the side table. Hermione groaned, her hands clutched the Potion Master’s sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white.

Convinced that Snape had just poisoned her best friend, she started to run forward, unsure what she was going to do about it, but convinced that she had to do… something.

Wooden staves blocked her way almost immediately, the Durmstrang students stood on her way. She looked towards Hermione and back to those blocking her with frustration.

Then, Hermione released her death grip on Snape’s sleeve, and she slumped against him, her hands fell into her lap.

The Potion Master carefully lay Hermione back onto her pillow, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

There was a plaintive chirp that came from Hermione’s shoulder, and Ginny spotted the small hippogriff head-butting into her chin, rubbing up against her much like Crookshanks would to wake her up in the morning.

“If you will allow me, Master,” Viktor said formally.

Snape’s stood and nodded silently to the Bulgarian seeker.

Krum tugged on the blanket, lifting it up, and Vik trotted dutifully in with a chirp, forming a hippogriff shaped lump under the blanket on top of Hermione’s chest. His hand alighted on the small hippogriff before he stepped away from Snape with a bow of his head.

Snape stood, taking the goblet back off the table. He turned and fixed Ginny with a gaze that caused her blood to run cold and her previous bravery to waver. The look was not friendly, nor was it neutral. She had no doubt at all, at that moment, that he knew she had thought he was poisoning her friend.

Dumbledore came in behind Ginny, startling her yet again.

“Ah, Severus,” he greeted. “Did you see to Miss Granger as I asked?”

Snape looked at Dumbledore impassively. “Yes, Headmaster.”

“Good, good,” Albus muttered. “We don’t want her to suffer any ill effects, if any were to be had, from her attack earlier.”

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore said. “I thought I told you to visit your friend in the morning. Why are you here?”

Ginny stammered. “I’m sorry, Professor, I think I misunderstood you.”

“Mmm,” Albus replied. “Well, no harm done. But do let, Ms. Granger rest. You can come visit her tomorrow.”

“Yes, Professor,” Ginny said. “Sorry, Professor.”

Dumbledore turned to address the Durmstrang students. “You do Ms. Granger a great service watching over her, but if you should wish to return to your ship to rest, I’m sure she will be fine now.”

The Durmstrang wizards chattered quickly in a different language. They gestured quickly, shaking their heads emphatically.

“We prefer to stay until she wake in morning, Headmaster,” Viktor said with an incline of his head. “Is matter of honour.”

“Very well,” Albus said with a nod. “I will let Madam Pomfrey know of the exception this time, as the circumstances are… exceptional.”

The Durmstrang students returned to their positions around Hermione’s bedside.

“Come with me, Miss Weasley,” Albus said. “Let’s get you back to your Common Room. Severus, if you could join us for a meeting in my office in a half hour?”

The Potion Master’s face was neutral. “As you wish, Headmaster.” With that, he turned and exited the hospital wing, his dark robes fluttering behind him.

The last thing Ginny saw before she was herded out the door by Dumbledore, was the grim-looking Sons of Durmstrang standing watch over her friend’s bedside, as unmoving and stoic as sculptures.    

 


	22. Chapter 22: Pondering, Justice Served, and Animagi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny wants to know what Snape was poisoning her friend with.  
> The Durmstrang proclaim Hermione their sister and comrade.

**Chapter 22: Pondering, Justice Served, and Animagi**

“What was in that horrible goblet Snape made you drink from?” Ginny asked as she sat down next to the hospital bed.

“Foul things to drink so other foul things don’t get into my battle wounds I suppose,” Hermione answered, making a horrible face, “and about five other things Professor Dumbledore wanted thrown in for good measure. And it’s Professor Snape, Ginny.”

Ginny made a face.  “Snape makes you foul unidentified drink and you just… drink it down without questioning it?”

“Who said I wasn’t questioning it. It looked awful,” Hermione smirked. “It smelled worse.”

“Yeah, but… Merlin, Hermione. Since when does anyone sane just drink something that Snape makes?” Ginny shook her head.

Hermione smirked.  “So, you’re either calling me a lunatic, or you’re insulting Professor Snape’s potion crafting skills? Or… perhaps you’re insulting Professor Dumbledore’s judgment?”

Ginny slumped.  “I just want to know what came over you to let the man who tortures you practically every night with detention to give you anything.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Ginny,” Hermione smirked. “I’m the one being impertinent in class, not Professor Snape.”

“How can you even say that?” Ginny groused. “You know full well that he’s going to pick on you if you if you even raise your hand.”

Hermione chuckled.  “Yet, I still wave my hand in front of his face, like I expect a different outcome. Some would call that insanity.”

“Bah,” Ginny answered. She shook her head. “Harry says they confirmed who the man was that was masquerading as Professor Moody. Some guy named Barty Crouch.”

Hermione frowned.  “Doesn’t Barty Crouch work at the Ministry of Magic?”

“Junior,” Ginny said. “And apparently there is some debate on how Junior got out of Azkaban, since there is a grave with him supposedly in it.”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow.  “It amazes me how many secrets the students of Hogwarts are privy to in such a short amount of time.”

“Speaking of secrets, Hermione,” Ginny said accusingly.

Hermione froze, her eyes sliding to meet Ginny ’s glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Ron locked you out of the Gryffindor tower?” Ginny hissed.

Hermione relaxed and let out a sigh.  “I’ve had a lot on my mind, Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“Ooooo, that brother of mine,” Ginny steamed. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into him this year, but it’s like he’s been doing his best to make you the fault of every bad thing that happens to him. You should have hexed him into a chicken and set him loose in front of Mrs. Norris.”

“Oh, and that would have totally helped him think better of me, Ginny,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Ginny huffed.  “You need to do something, Hermione. Don’t let him just walk all over you like it doesn’t matter.”

Hermione grunted.  “I’ve thought of a hundred different ways to ‘deal’ with it, Ginny, but I have yet to come up with one that doesn’t involve fire, tar, and colourful vernacular.”

“He could do for some fire, tar, and colourful vernacular, Hermione,” Ginny fussed. “I think he’s been riding Harry on purpose, so he doesn’t have time to come visit you.”

Hermione frowned.  “What has his wand in a knot, anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure it starts with V and ends in Krum,” Ginny replied.

Hermione snorted.  “He has his action figure and wants his autograph,” Hermione answered.

“Not so much anymore,” said Ginny. “Harry said the figure was smashed to pieces on the dormitory floor.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Boys.”

“Speaking of boys,” Ginny said with a giggle.

Hermione slid her eyes over to look at Ginny with suspicion.

“Care to tell me why you had a detail of Durmstrang around you like you were more important than the Minister of Magic?” Ginny asked.

Hermione looked sheepish.  “Honor. It’s really hard to explain. Viktor tried to explain it to me, but… it basically comes down to honour.”

“Wha?” Ginny made an odd sound. She wasn’t a total stranger to the concept of honour, but she was having trouble connecting the dots.

“I was wounded in battle,” Hermione elaborated. “It made me a comrade in arms. Family.”

Ginny just stared at her.  “So… you’ve been adopted by an entire class of Durmstrang?”

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it.

“I still think you’re completely mental going out there and putting yourself in the line of fire, even if it was for Harry,” Ginny scolded. “I’m not sure I would have been able to do the same. Merlin knows Ron wasn’t sticking his neck out.”

Hermione gave her a look that seemed to say how glad she was that she wasn ’t relying on Ron to have her back in battle if his attitude was any indicator of dedication.

“I still think you should put Ron in his place,” Ginny said.

“Where is that, might I ask?” Hermione asked with a smirk.

“On the ground. I could always tell Mum about what he did,” Ginny suggested. “She’d send a howler for sure.”

Hermione closed her eyes.  “Not that the mental picture isn’t amusing, Ginny,I’m fairy certain it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out how word got back to her. I don’t want him taking it out on you too.”

Ginny shook her head, muttering.  “Crookshanks misses you,” she said randomly. “I think he misses little Vik too. He’s been turning over your pillows and looking under the covers like he’s looking for one of his catnip mice.”

Hermione smiled.  “It will be nice to sleep in my own bed.”

“Well hurry up and get well then,” Ginny said as though her recovery was only a matter of setting one’s mind to it.

“As you command,” Hermione replied dryly.

The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter that filled the hospital wing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hermione!” Harry engulfed his friend in a hug. “How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t been around. So much has been happening, and Sirius took me to see his house. He said I can stay there with him! I actually have a room… a home!” Harry’s words came out in a rush that reminded Hermione of an avalanche, causing Hermione to smile despite herself. Apparently Sirius had given Harry his Christmas present, as promised, and Harry’s happiness was beaming forth from him like the rays of the sun.

“Harry!” she took in his happy scent with an automatic inhale, glad to feel the tension he had been carrying around with him lessened somewhat considering he was still being forced to participate in a gruelling Tri-Wizard Tournament that could kill him at any moment.

“Did you like my late present, Hermione?” Harry asked. “I’m sorry it was late!”

Hermione nodded.  “You’re such a prat, Harry Potter!” She smirked at him and laughed. “I loved them.”

Harry grinned at her. His gifts to her had been multi-layered. He ’d sent her a Muggle book called “Dealing With Difficult People” and a miniature chest filled with chocolates shaped like books. Each of the books had been gaily wrapped in bright and shiny foil and stamped with a multitude of odd-ball titles. Lastly, he’d given her a small collection of tiny ribbons that ranged from gem-tones to shiny metallics that seemed perfectly sized for a certain ribbon-wearing hippogriff.

Vik, as if sensing her train of thoughts, fluttered out of Hermione ’s hair and stood on Harry’s shoulder, showing off his latest ribbons with a flick of his tail.

Harry grinned, rubbing the little guy under the chin.  “I’m glad you’re okay, Hermione. I never got to thank you for taking the hits for me.”

Hermione shook her head.  “Someone has to protect you from yourself, Harry,” she chuckled.

Harry looked affronted for perhaps three seconds before the grin spread across his face.  “True,” he agreed. “I’m glad you’re there for me. I feel horrible that you were hurt though.”

“Bah,” Hermione replied dismissively. “I’m fine.”

“Guess you’d have to be since you have a regiment of bloody Durmstrang following you around like bloody goslings,” Ron sniped as he joined them in the hallway. “You must be enjoying all the attention.” 

Hermione closed her eyes upon hearing Ron ’s voice, silently stifling her instinctive first, second, and quite possibly third through tenth responses that sprung to mind. “They are not following me around, Ron, and good morning to you too.”

“Could have fooled me,” Ron continued, looking disgusted.

Ron ’s mouth was gaining the attention of quite a few people in the courtyard, and Harry seemed torn between his friends and how to make the situation defuse. 

“Glad to see you finally redeeming yourself from being a blood-traitor, Weasley,” Malfoy said silkily from his position leaning up against the nearby tree. Crabbe and Goyle were looking at Ron with approval.

“Yeah,” Crabbe said with a nod. “You’re not so bad after all.”

“Putting the mud-blood in her place,” Goyle sneered. 

“I don’t need your approval, Malfoy,” Ron growled at him.

Malfoy gave him a knowing grin.  “Oh, don’t be such a sour-puss, Ron, we know what you’re really capable of now,” Draco purred, leaning in with a very cat-who-ate-the-canary expression. “Locking Granger out of your own tower? Stroke of genius. I’ll be sure to tell my father that there is some hope for your family,” Draco purred. He jerked his head at Crabbe and Goyle and swept out of the courtyard with his two companions following behind him.

It was then that many sets of disbelieving eyes fell upon Ronald Weasley, and a roar of whispering and chatter spread through the courtyard like wildfire. 

Harry stared at Ronald with dismay.  “Ron… did you… actually lock Hermione out of the tower that night? Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Ron growled angrily. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Glad to see where I rate,” Harry replied, his posture stiffening. “You know, when you’re done brooding over whatever stick wedged itself up your arse, Ron, you let me know. Right after you apologise to Hermione for being a lousy git.”

Ron ’s face flushed red as Harry tugged Hermione by the arm and guided her down the path towards Black Lake. “Come on, Hermione. It’s getting stuffy in here.”

Harry and Hermione left Ron standing in the courtyard fuming to himself as he realised his manipulation was not only out in the open, but it was being spread throughout the Hogwarts gossip networks. It would not be long until everyone in the school knew about his transgression, which meant his mother would find out before day ’s end.

“Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall called to him sternly, having seemingly appeared out of no where. “I want you to follow me to my office. Now.”

As Ronald sulked out of the courtyard to follow Minerva to her office, a certain blond-haired Slytherin pressed his fingertips together as he leaned against a pillar. Perfect.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún,” Hermione sang with McGonagall as they walked the trails around Black Lake. Hermione spun on her heels every so often, and Vik the hippogriff fluttered around her head in lazy circles.

“Siúil go socair agus siúil go ciúin,” they continued, with Hermione pitching her voice slightly higher to complement Minerva’s slightly lower intonation.

“Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom,” Hermione sang, clasping McGonagall’s hands together and acting as though she was professing her undying love to her.

“Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán,” Minerva sang back to her, a sparkle in her eyes, releasing Hermione’s hands as she danced along the shoreline.

Vik gave a singing note, harmonising with them as if he ’d done it all his relatively short life.

Minerva laughed as they finished their song.  “I haven’t been able to sing that song in a long time,” she chuckled. “It’s not Scottish, but it is a classic.”

Hermione grinned at her Professor, her eyes were warm with shared happiness.  “Thank you for teaching me, Professor,” she thanked her.

“Psh, call me Minerva when we are alone, Hermione,” McGonagall admonished. “I’ll not have you calling me that when we are singing out over the snow covered Moors.”

“As you wish, Minerva,” she replied with a bow, a playful grin set upon her face.

The transfiguration professor looked at her with an amused expression.  “I’ve never been so ashamed of a member of one of my own house, but you remind me of the positives,” she admitted.

Hermione gave her Head of House a sorrowful expression.  “I wish I could tell you what’s gotten into him, Minerva, but I’d be lying if I said I knew. What he isn’t taking out on me, he’s taking out on this little guy, and before me, he was taking everything out on Harry.”

McGonagall looked out over the lake and sighed.  “I expect he’ll be hearing from his mother soon enough. I owled her this morning. You will tell me if he continues to harass you, won’t you, Hermione?” The older witch gave Hermione one of her no-nonsense looks.

“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied automatically, falling back to formality.

Minerva, as if realising what she ’d caused Hermione to do, shook her head, waving her hand dismissively. “No need to revert to that, dear. There’s just been so much to take in… in a very short span of time. When Severus told me I could trust you and Draco Malfoy of all people to do what needed to be done, I didn’t know what to think.”

Hermione sighed with relief, glad to know that her Master had finally given her someone she could talk freely about her friendship to Draco Malfoy to on the female side of the Hogwarts staff.  “If it makes you feel any better, Minerva,” Hermione said with a tired smile. “We do our best to make you think that way.”

“Such subterfuge is tiring to keep up with,” Minerva admitted. “Alastor is always saying constant vigilance, but you can see how well that saved him. He is alive, however, and I believe we can count our blessings there. If I hadn’t smelled him that day in the office, I wouldn’t have even suspected…”

“Is the real Professor Moody coming back to teach?” Hermione asked.

“Albus seems to think it would be a good idea. He’s back to his normal cranky self,” Minerva made a face that told wonders about Alastor Moody’s true personality. “He’s been spouting off already that the Ministry is being corrupt from the inside and that Dolores Umbridge is going to try and take over Hogwarts.”

“Not knowing who Dolores Umbridge is withstanding,” Hermione said. “Is there any truth to his accusation?”

“Dolores is a toxic woman,” Minerva said. “Medieval in mind and method. There are a hundred things I could say about here, and not one of them are kind. As for her coming to Hogwarts, I don’t think there is anyone in Hogwarts that would welcome her presence.”

Hermione gulped.  “That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”

“Even if it is true,” McGonagall speculated, “it is hardly normal for the Ministry to meddle in the affairs of Hogwarts. And speaking of Hogwarts, how is Harry coming along with his second clue?”

“I don’t think he’s been very… focused, I fear,” Hermione admitted. “He just got the best Christmas present of his life getting to move in with his godfather, and I don’t think that meant pondering his second clue.”

“Well I don’t blame him,” Minerva muttered. “The Dursleys were and are… horrible examples of human beings. Still, the next trial is in February. Time is not a luxury for him. I hate to impose on what is probably an already busy load of tasks you are doing, but if you could at least try to nudge him into action…”

Hermione smirked.  “I will try,” she replied, privately noting that was one of her constant tasks already to keep Harry Potter on track towards his goals.

Minerva had, intentionally or not, herded Hermione to a scenic clearing overlooking the lake that was not so unlike the grassy knoll on the further side of the lake that Draco, Hermione, and Severus used to  “get away” from Hogwarts.

“Well, now that we’re in a more relaxing place, let’s see how well you are doing on your animagus meditations, Hermione,” McGonagall said, sitting down on a comfortable looking patch of moss.

Hermione grinned and plopped down on a comfortable looking spot, crossed her legs, and sat still, closing her eyes as she went through the motions of  “becoming an animagus.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Do you… trust me, Her-my-own?” Viktor asked softly, his hand extended to hers with a serious expression upon his face. His scent was spiked with nervousness that did not quite reach his eyes.

Hermione looked at him with a curious tilt to her head. His scent had shifted. He always smelled of the sea a sort of musk that was strangely warm, despite the serious expression that normally sat upon his face in public. His scent, and those of his  “brothers in arms” had become strangely comforting in the way that reminded her of “family.” 

Scents, especially strong in those such as Severus and Draco, were immediate reminders of what  “home” was and her friends, perhaps even more than the smell of baking cookies in her mother’s kitchen from her childhood. There was the almost nutmeg scent of Harry Potter, Ginny’s that smelled much like the kitchen at the Burrow after her mother had been done baking, Fred and George who both smelled strongly of “boy” and pepper in a way that made her want to sneeze, Neville who always smelled like like a nervous boy who rolled in night blooming cacti, and Seamus who never failed to smell like explosives and half-charred hair. 

Viktor, on the other hand, held a mixture of scents that belied a complexity that most people did not, only it was foreign and mysterious to her senses.

Little Vik chirped pleasantly as if to give response when Hermione was slacking.

“I trust you, Viktor,” Hermione said, placing her hand in his.

Viktor smiled, closing his fingers around her hand, as he bowed his head to kiss the top of her hand.  “Am glad of it,” he said softly. He opened his arm to her, and Hermione stepped in shyly, finding the wrap of his arm around her waist both warm and comforting. “Do not be afraid,” he said softly.

CRACK.

They appeared on the top of a far mountain with Hogwarts not even a speck in the distance.

Viktor released her slowly, looking at her with sympathy as she scanned the area looking for familiar landmarks.  “We are… north of Hogwarts. The sea is that way.” He pointed off into the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said with wonder, feeling the crisp mountain air whip around her. “But why did you bring me here?”

“Durmstrang different from Hogwarts. Some things taught early there that Hogwarts seems to ‘tink are… unnecessary. Ve are taught… to shape our bodies into veapons of var,” Viktor touched her cheek gently.

Hermione saw four things flying their direction. She squinted as she realised there were four  “birds” unlike anything she had seen before. Viktor did not seem alarmed.

“Do not be… alarmed,” Viktor said softly.

The  “birds” came in for a landing. 

At first, she thought they were phoenixes, like Fawkes, but as they came in closer, she realised they were far more. One seemed to be composed entirely of flames. Cooler red flames mixed with the hotter orange into white with brilliant blue tips of each  “feather” marking the hottest flames. Brilliant orange, glowing eyes stared out from the cooler, red flames of it’s head. 

Another looked as though they were sculpted in water. Each feather glistened as though carved and formed from living water. The feathers took in the colours around them with a shimmering glisten.  His eyes, unlike the rest of him, did not pick up other colours. They were a silver so pale they could have been ice.

The third bird looked more  “natural” in that it was not burning or crafted of water. It’s feathers were natural earthen-tones—umber, siennas, ivory, sandstone, almond, and grey. Its wings were barred and seemed to be almost fuzzy. She was reminded of an owl, and as the bird winged in, its eerily silent wingbeats confirmed the analogy.  His eyes were saffron yellow and baleful. They seemed to look through her rather than at her.

The fourth and final bird was like a vapour. Its body resembled both a mist-like cloud like tendrils of fog on a morning lake. Its wings were wispy like the high altitude cirrus clouds that stretched across the cold winter sky. Its body seemed to be formed of cumulonimbus clouds —fluffy and poofy in a way that seemed to invite her to reach out and touch them.  Its eyes were a brilliant blue of the sky on a sunlit, cloudless day.

Each bird landed and reformed into the shapes of the Durmstrang wizards she had come to know thanks to their vigils around her beside at the Hogwarts hospital. 

Aleksander fell into a bow as the red and orange flames fell off his body. Lazar stood as water shed off his shoulders. Swirls of vapour licked off Petya, and the earthen toned  “bird” became Valko. Each of them fell into a bow as they landed with an eerie sort of grace.

“We are veapons of war,” Viktor confessed. “To protect the tings most dear to us.”

“Our friends,” Aleksander said in a low rumble.

“Our families,” Lazar said with a nod of his head.

“Our comrades,” Petya added.

“Our allies,” Valko continued.

“Our loved ones,” Viktor said lastly. His hand gently touched Hermione’s cheek as his thumb brushed across it.

Hermione took in their words with amazement. Becoming an Animagus, as far as she knew, was not a common thing. The Ministry, as if to prove their own fear of such people, had created the Animagus Registry, something that, while Minerva was legally registered, she was perfectly happy to turn a blind eye to Severus, Sirius, and now Hermione. Durmstrang, however, seemed to have a very practical  “whatever makes you stronger” approach.

“I thought you said Aleksander was a horrible flier,” Hermione said, having nothing better to offer up.

Aleksander smirked.  “Bet he say I horrible at Quidditch. I am.”

The others snickered at him.

“Aleksander brilliant in air combat tactics, horrible at Quidditch tactics,” Valko said with a grin.

“I do not like… broom,” Aleksander said stiffly.

“Broom not like you, either, brother,” Lazar ribbed.

“I can identify,” Hermione confessed, feeling more at ease. 

Aleksander nodded his head to her.  “You see? She understand.”

Hermione furrowed her brows.  “Why are you telling me this?”

Viktor fidgeted nervously.  “You fight vith us.”

“Bled vith us,” Valko added.

“You are soldier,” Petya added. 

“You deserve,” Viktor said softly. “To know me. Please do not be afraid. I am… bit of freak of nature.”

“More than flaming birds?” Hermione said with a lifted brow.

“Quite,” Viktor admitted. He stepped away from her with a sad expression. 

Hermione felt his nervousness. Whatever it was he was hiding, it was something he thought was  “worse” or “more traumatic” than having four magical elemental birds land from the sky and turn into wizards in front of her.

Viktor looked at her, his eyes pleading for her not to judge him harshly for whatever he was about to show her. His form shimmered for a moment, becoming blurry, and expanded, exploding outward into a different shape and low rumbling growl that was both primal and everywhere at once.

Viktor ’s comrades bowed, backing away, not perhaps in fear, but deference to his presence. Viktor was no longer human, nor was he a bird of any kind. His body was a massive shaggy black coat of dark fur. His head was a large, almost wolf like, shape, bright fangs were exposed in a half-snarl. Dark wings flared outward from his back, fanning out to expose iridescent feathers that were both black and prismatic at the same time. His forelegs were that of a great beast, but his rear legs were shaped into that of a bird of prey. Behind him, trailed the tail of peacock, filled with both dark colours and shining green and blue metallic feathers.

“Simurgh,” Hermione whispered, reaching out to touch Viktor’s head. “Guardian of the Soma-tree.”

He slowly touched his head to her hand, allowing her to run her fingers through his shaggy fur, his dark eyes met hers.

“You’re… beautiful,” she said with a slight choke her voice, soothing his head. She wrapped her arms around his shaggy neck and pressed her face into his fur, realising what that foreign scent had been all along. He whined, nuzzling her neck and his tongue lolled, gently rasping against her cheek.

“I told you she know vat you are, Viktor,” Aleksander said with a chuckle. “She not idiot.”

“Even though ve vere,” Lazar said. “Ve had no idea vat you vere.”

Hermione looked into Viktor ’s dark, human eyes set into the body of the supposedly mythical Simurgh. He was no more mythical than she was. Who was she to judge?

:Master,: Hermione sent her awareness out to touch her Master ’s mind, sharing with him her position, her questions, her situation, and her exhilaration.

Severus ’ mind touched hers with the warmth that grounded her, despite her emotional state. :You may, my Apprentice. I trust your judgment.: he said softly, leaving her mind with a gentle brush of his presence.

Hermione backed away from Viktor, pressing her fingers to the line of his muzzle, and with a few steps further, fell on all fours, allowing the other shape that was as natural to her now as breathing to swallow her up.

There was an extended pause where hardly even a breath was heard.

Viktor took a few steps forward and touched his muzzle to her beak, one ear pointed forward and the other to the side in his confusion.

Little Vik flew out of Hermione ’s mane feathers, chirping sweetly as he landed delicately in between Viktor’s ears.

Aleksander burst into a low baritone laughter, carrying his comrades into joined laughter.  “And you vere vorried that she vould shun us, Viktor. Idiot.”

Viktor was in human form as his comrades sank into a deep bow. 

Hermione sank her head down, slipping into a bow to the Sons of Durmstrang.

Viktor ran his hands down her beak and into her silky feathers. He pressed his face to the top of her head. When he pulled away, a single trail of tears went down his cheek.  “You are beautiful,” he breathed into her nostrils.

Aleksander stood and raised his hands into the air.  “Fly with us, Witch of Hogwarts,” he said, leaping into the air, his flaming wings carrying up high in to the sky.

“Sister,” Lavar said, leaping into the sky as the blue flames engulfed him and carried him aloft.

“Comrade,” Petya said with a smile, leaping into the skies as the mists carried him aloft.

“Friend,” Valko said, his brown and red wings carrying into the skies without effort.

“Cherished one,” Viktor said softly, backing away from Hermione as he leapt into the sky, his dark wings beating briskly as he sought a thermal to carry his bulk upwards with his brothers.

And Hermione leapt into the air after them, great wings beating in the cold January air as steam rose from her body. The little hippogriff fluttered in the air beside her, tiny wings beating in time with hers as she chased after her new comrades in the skies. She let out a piercing eagle-like scream that echoed across the mountains.

Four cries from the magical birds answered her as the roar of not so mythical Simurgh reverberated through the skies to mingle with them all.

And the chase was on.

Hours later, when they landed atop a certain snow-covered grassy knoll, Severus was waiting both silently and still with Draco at his side. 

Hermione landed in transition, her gryphon form melting into her human one in a blur of movement. She ran into Severus and Draco, her arms wrapping around the both in a genuine hug of exhilaration and relief.

“This is my Master and Draco,” Hermione said with a warmth that welled up from her chest and spilt out through her eyes, relieved that her Master was allowing to share their secret. “My family, my comrades, my friends.” She turned to look at the small regiment of Durmstrang that had landed after her. “Master, Draco… meet Viktor, Lazar, Aleksander, Petya, and Valko.”

The Durmstrang bowed formally.  “Master. Draco. Is honour to meet… officially. Our sister of skies have great trust in you. So shall we.”

Severus inclined his head slightly, and Draco did the formal bow that the Malfoy family was known for.

“Our sister says you have love of Quidditch,” Aleksander said with a rumble. “That goes beyond anything she can fathom.”

Hermione blushed as Draco nodded to the taller wizard. Aleksander, much like his other form, had hair that seemed like flames. Where the Weasley hair was notoriously red, his was colours of flames. His hair, which had seemed unnervingly alive, suddenly made more sense.

“Do not tease boy, brother,” Lazar admonished, winking his eye blue eyes at Draco. “Ve all know you and broom get along like dementors and Patronus. Maybe you teach him how to sing like drunken walrus.”

Aleksander scoffed.

“Perhaps, I teach,” Viktor said, giving Draco a smile. “Pointers on catching snitch.”

Draco perked at this.

Viktor bowed to Severus,  “If Master approve.” 

Draco gave his godfather the most blatant pleading look in his repertoire. 

“As you wish,” Severus said softly. “Do not be out past curfew, Draco.”

Draco beamed as Viktor pulled his broom out from his robes and enlarged it.

“Come,” Viktor said. “I show you how to really fly on broom.”

Draco pulled his broom out from his robe and enlarged it. The pair of them mounted up and zoomed off over Black Lake with whoops of excitement.

Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya looked smugly after their comrade as he zoomed off over the lake. They turned to Hermione and Severus with a smile, bowing their head.

“We bid you goodnight, sister of skies,” they chimed. “See you in morning. We hunt together.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Master of our sister,” they said to Severus. 

The four wizards leapt into the air and flew across Black Lake, heading towards the ship anchored in the lake.

Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to walk right into Severus, burying her face into his chest and robes.  “Thank you, Master.”

Severus placed his arms around her, gently placing one hand on her head and drawing it against his chest.  “You are welcome.”

Vik popped out of Hermione ’s hair and fluttered over to Severus, rubbing against his neck and chin affectionately.

Hermione pulled back and smiled up at him.  “Do you think… one day,” she started to say. She turned to face Black Lake, her eyes watching Draco and Viktor flying patterns on their brooms.

“Do you think I’ll be able to tell Harry and Ginny?” she finished.

“One day,” Severus replied. “Maybe the day you rip into Ronald Weasley with your beak and talons in front of countless witnesses,” he added dryly.

Hermione blushed and shook her head.  “Master?”

“Hrm?” Severus replied, inclining his head.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” Hermione said with a smile that filled her up and escaped through her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist and smashed her face into the buttons of his waistcoat.

Severus closed his eyes, tenderly placing his hand on her head once more.  “Always.”

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- 

**A/N:** Writing this chapter while listening to the soundtrack to Sherlock (BBC version)? Who would do such a thing? Surely, not I? *eyedarts* Who would imagine Draco and Hermione running down the streets of London chasing a suspect down the alleyways in frantic pursuit of … someone? This girl. Yeah. Guilty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter while listening to the soundtrack to Sherlock (BBC version)? Who would do such a thing? Surely, not I? *eyedarts* Who would imagine Draco and Hermione running down the streets of London chasing a suspect down the alleyways in frantic pursuit of… someone? This girl. Yeah. Guilty.


	23. Early Morning Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes Harry out for a little early morning fun.

Chapter 23: Early Morning Lessons

Harry woke up to a snuffling on his face. He opened his eyes blearily and focused on the miniature hippogriff that staring at him intently. "Oh hello, you," Harry greeted sleepily.

Vik chirped at him, flipping his tail back and forth.

Harry looked at the little hippogriff with confusion.

Vik flew over to the nightstand and grabbed his glasses in his front talons and fluttered back over towards Harry with a soft chirp, depositing the glasses into his hands.

"Well, aren't you useful," Harry chuckled, putting on his glasses.

Vik chirped his approval as Harry scratched him under the chin.

"What are you doing here this early?"

Vik chirped, flicking his tail and jingling slightly.

"Shhh," Harry shushed the little hippogriff. "You'll wake Ron and Neville."

Vik seemed to understand him and froze on his lap, staring at him with a strange intensity.

Harry looked at him curiously. "What do you… oh!" The piece of parchment lashed to the little hippogriff's front leg was suddenly more obvious.

Vik chirped as Harry unlashed the parchment off and unrolled it.

Meet at Hagrid's when you get this. Bring your broom. -H

Harry smiled, slightly amused by his friend's early morning sneakiness, but he pondered why she asked him to bring his broom. He slid of the bed and dressed quickly. Grabbing his broom and winter coat he hustled down the steps, and, in an afterthought, ran back up, grabbed little Vik and stuffed him in his winter coat. He rushed down the steps again, gently patting the squirming hippogriff that was wriggling next to his chest pocket.

He tossed the parchment scrap into the fire on his way out of the Common Room and slipped out of the portal, rushing down the stairs and down the corridors to the path to Hagrid's hut.

The air was even more brisk than he remembered, causing him to shiver as he ran down the steps. The sun was just coming up over the ridge, helping him see, but not helping him warm up. He put his hands into his pocket and realised with a pleasant surprise that the little hippogriff was heating up his pocket for him. He smiled, hugging his arms close to him. Now if the rest of himself could heat up.

As he approached Hagrid's hut, he noticed that the fire was not going and the lights were out, making him wonder where Hermione actually was.

"Psst," Hermione hissed from the trees.

Harry turned his head to see Hermione waving at him from the far side of the garden. He shivered and hurried over to her.

"What's up, Hermione? Why so early?"

"Follow me," Hermione said, tugging on his sleeve.

Harry struggled to keep up with his friend, wondering if his feet had gotten shorter, or Hermione had started to run up and down the stairs to work out. She led him through the trees on a path that only she seemed to know.

"Hermione!" Harry sputtered as he tried to keep up. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see!" Hermione said vaguely.

Harry considered mounting his broom just to keep up with his friend, but if he shot past her, that would totally defeat the purpose of following her.

Just when he thought he'd collapse, he found himself in a clearing he'd never been in before. The forest had opened up onto a hillside that overlooked Hogwarts from high above. Black Lake shimmered from a far distance away.

"Hermione," Harry panted. "Since when do you hike trails through the Dark Forest like it's your home?" The black-haired wizard was giving her an amused look as he caught his breath.

"Since it was important," Hermione answered with a laugh. She sat down in the grass and flopped on her back.

Little Vik squirmed in Harry's pocket and he opened it somewhat guiltily. Vik shot out of his pocket like one of Fred and George's oddball fireworks and twittered scoldings at him as he landed in Hermione's hair.

"Sorry, little guy," Harry apologised to the miniature hippogriff.

Vik chirped at him, but didn't start dive-bombing his eyes, so Harry didn't get too worried.

"You should be careful vith hippogriff," an accented voice said. "He hold grudge like a Durmstrang."

Harry jolted in surprise as Viktor Krum walked into the clearing, flanked by four other Durmstrang wizards. They walked together in formation in a way that seemed both formal and normal at the same time.

Viktor looked down at Hermione, who was staring up into the sky. She gazed back up at him. He extended his hand to her, and she grasped it, pulling herself up.

"Her-my-own say you quite de Quidditch player," Viktor said with a low rumble. "Start early. Ate a few snitches."

Harry blushed. "Only had to cough up one."

"Does not matter if you cough up twenty," Viktor said matter-of-factly. "As long as it is you vho doing coughing."

Harry grinned. "Didn't think of it that way."

Viktor pulled out a box from his coat. "I bring most horrible snitch in vorld. Give many headaches. Make good practice. If you vant. Ve chase together. I give tips."

Harry's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He looked at Hermione excitedly and back to Viktor.

"Is true," Viktor said with a shrug. "If I didn't mean… I send you up with him." Victor pointed to the red and orange haired male behind him with his thumb.

"Psh," Aleksander said in reply.

"Sure," Harry agreed with a nod. "I would love to."

"Show me how you fly," Viktor said as he took Hermione's hand in his and brought it up to place a kiss upon the back of her hand. He opened the box in his hand, pulled out a golden snitch, and tossed it up in the air. The snitch unfolded its wings and zoomed off.

Harry mounted his broom and waited for Viktor to get on his broom as well.

"Good luck, brother," Valko said with amusement.

"Do not fall off broom," Lazar teased.

"Ve meet you back in Hall for Breakfast," Petya added.

"After ve hunt," Aleksander said.

"Happy hunting," Viktor said with a smirk.

"Is hunting, brother," Lazar noted. "Is always happy. Unless we miss."

Viktor mounted his broom.

Harry, remembering Hermione, looked towards her. "You going to be ok alone?"

"Oh, I'll be fine, Harry," she said. "I know the way home."

Harry gave her a warm grin just as the snitch zoomed by his head.

"Go!" Viktor yelled, pushing off the ground and zooming after it.

Harry gave a yell and tore after him.

When the pair were only specks on the horizon as they gave chase to the snitch, the four Durmstrang bowed at the neck.

"Ve hunt together, sister," Lazar said, leaping into the air, with Aleksander, Valko, and Petya following after.

Hermione smirked and followed them as they led the way over the top of the Dark Forest, her great wings beating in the chilly morning air.


	24. Howling Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronald Weasley versus howlers sent by Molly Weasley... scary.  
> Hermione and the Sky Brothers go hunting.

**Chapter 24: Howling Good Time**

_“The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.” - William Arthur Ward_

Harry joined Hermione at the table in the Great Hall with a broad grin and a tremble of excitement still running through his body.

“Hermione!” he gushed. “Viktor is amazing! He can turn on a sickle and hang like a bat on his broom!”

Hermione grinned at Harry with no small amount of amusement. “Did you learn anything?”

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “Did I ever!” He looked around the table. “Where is everybody?”

“It’s still a bit early, Harry,” Hermione chuckled.

Harry chuckled and nodded. “I’m so awake now, I probably won’t sleep for a week.”

“Good thing we don’t have class for a week yet,” Hermione smirked.

“I never thought he’d actually share pointers with me,” Harry confessed. “Everyone keeps saying that anyone from Durmstrang is out for themselves, but, he talks so highly of his brothers and he showed me all these great things I can try next time we have Quidditch practice. I can’t wait.”

Hermione grinned. She wasn’t about to tell him that his “nemesis” had also had his own tips and tutorials on Quidditch broom work, and part of her was kind of eager to see which boy had taken Viktor’s training to heart more. She had a feeling it would be neck and neck. Both Harry and Draco had a disgusting amount of love for the sport.

“He did say something odd though,” Harry said quietly.

“Hrm?” Hermione said, caught in the middle of chewing on a piece of toast.

“He said my mind is.. Er.. Open. Like a book,” Harry said with a little bafflement. “That I’d need to learn to protect my thoughts, or my enemies could use my own mind against me.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Harry,” Hermione replied. She had been wondering how she was going to break the fact that Harry’s mental shields were deplorable without revealing how she knew they were, for months.

“He said… Alexander? He could help me learn,” Harry said.

“Aleksander, Harry,” Hermione corrected.

Harry shook his head. “That sounds the same to me, Hermione.”

Hermione chuckled.

“Durmstrang are so… serious when it comes to magic, Hermione,” he noted. “It’s like everything they learn is crucial to some greater cause. Viktor said I have to learn like I’m protecting everything I care about. He sounded so serious.”

“Protecting those you care about is serious, don’t you think?” Hermione suggested.

Harry gave a small smile. “I guess I need to listen to you more when you offer to help me with stuff, huh?”

Hermione smirked. “That would be a pleasant change.”

Harry shoved her arm, causing Vik the hippogriff to scold him from Hermione’s hair. He gave a small chuckle. “Sorry, little guy. You know I’d never hurt her on purpose.”

Vik seemed to give Harry an evaluating glare and then stormed back into Hermione’s hair.

“That was creepy,” Harry admitted.

“What was?”

“He just stormed back into your hair like Snape exits a room. All he needed was a long black robe and it would have been perfect,” Harry said with lifts of both eyebrows.

Hermione tried not to choke on her juice. “Professor Snape, Harry, and who knows what stuff Vik is picking up on. I just hope it isn’t Ron’s eating habits.”

It was Harry’s turn to choke. “Yeah, that would be awful.” He paused a little sadly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a better friend over the rows you two are getting in. I feel sort of caught in between. You’re both my friends, ya know? Even if I do want to punch him lately.”

Hermione smiled somewhat sadly. “I wish I could see more the boy with a logical mind and the bravery to move his chest piece just so you could win the game instead of… whatever has been going on lately. I don’t blame you, Harry.”

“Still, if I get to be too oblivious,” Harry suggested, “can you just smack me with a book or something?”

“I’m sure I can… come up with something,” Hermione said, raising one eyebrow. Her mind focused on the memories of countless notebooks being smacking into Harry and Ron’s heads throughout their career in potions class.

More people were starting to file into the Great Hall, filling the room with random and sleepy chatter. A few professors trickled in slowly. Severus swept into the room with his typical presence, but Hermione felt the sleepiness hanging about him.

:Good morning, Master,: she greeted warmly, knowing fully well that he was most likely grumpy.

Severus sent her the mental equivalent of a grunt, but there was a warmth in her mind as his presence settled into hers with its accustomed familiarity.

“Someone is grumpy,” signed Draco from the Slytherin table. He was smacking Goyle for doing his best Ronald Weasley impression with the pile of pancakes.

Severus shot Draco an unfriendly look from across the High Table, causing Draco to avert his eyes and bit his lip to keep from smiling.

Hermione grinned and passed the juice down to Ginny as she shuffled in, half-zombie like, and proceeded to plant her forehead against the dining table with a loud thunk.

“Oh dear,” Hermione chuckled, patting her friend on the back. Vik fluttered down in front of Ginny and stuck his beak against her cheek, scrambling with his legs in an attempt to wedge himself under her head and pry her up.

Instead, Ginny snagged her arm around the wriggling hippogriff with a yawn, and proceeded to snuggle Vik mercilessly.

Vik chirped and squirmed and then settled, only his small rear hooves sticking up from under her hand.

The Beauxbatons filed in, looking proper and well dressed as usual, settling around the tables looking far more alert than anyone in the Great Hall. They chattered merrily in a mixture of French and English, mingling with the Hogwarts students with a little more enthusiasm after the Battle of the Armadillo, as many were calling it. Many of the students of Hogwarts had thought the Beauxbatons as an aloof and entitled group, but now it seemed such misconceptions were fading away. Language barriers were slowly being whittled down into warm friendships, humorous misunderstandings, and somewhat comical attempts at learning each others languages.

The Sons of Durmstrang filed in shortly after, all of them looking like they had taken a few laps around Hogwarts before breakfast, and Hermione smirked, knowing full well some of them had taken more than a few laps by air around the entire Dark Forest.

Viktor shot her a brief, yet warm smile as he walked, and Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya ribbed him after he did so, laughing at their “fearless leader” being distracted again.

Many of the Durmstrang gave their “sister” a respectful nod of greeting as they passed, Hermione’s status as their sister had not been limited to Viktor’s inner circle of comrades. The revelation caused Hermione to boggle for a while, having suddenly more brothers than if she’d been born into the Weasley family.

Fred and George filed in, both reaching over to ruffle Hermione’s hair as they passed. “Morning,” they chimed together, ever the twins in everything they did.

“Little brother is in top form,” George whispered.

“He took out something on Pigwidgeon,” Fred whispered.

“What?” Ginny said, lifting her head. Any talk of Pigwidgeon never failed to wake Ginny up. “What did he do to him?”

“Yelled at him for being hyper,” Fred answered.

“Shook the cage rather violently,” George finished.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ginny hissed.

“I don’t know, but he practically shoved me down the stairs,” Neville bemoaned as he sat down at the table. “He slammed me aside, and I fell onto my cactus.”

Ginny shook her head, scrunching her face up in disbelief. “I realise this is the time of life we all lose our minds to biology, but Fred, George, you were never like this. Percy was the furthest thing from emotional, and Bill and Charlie were always on their best manners.”

“Something in the water,” Fred and George speculated together as they picked cactus spines out of Neville’s robe for him.

They had all settled in to a nice plate of waffles when Ron stormed in and sat down at the table with a grunt, barely even acknowledging anyone. He dug into breakfast with a grunt, randomly grabbing for the juice and breakfast items without a word.

“Hey, can you scoot down a little, Ron?” Seamus asked as he attempted to sit down.

Ron either didn’t or pretended not to hear him, focusing on his food. His appearance in the Great Hall was hardly anything to write home about. He looked half dressed and generally dishevelled. His hair was all over the place, and he was wearing and sweater she never remembered him having.

His manners, much per the usual, were lacking at the breakfast table. He proceeded to stuff his face with his usual fervour, making short work of two waffles, four sausages, and three pieces of toast before he even bothered to breathe.

Ginny exchanged glances with Hermione, furrowing her brows at her.

Hermione shrugged.

Ron completely ignored Hermione, speaking only with Harry, Ginny, or anyone other than her.

“There’s space beside me, Seamus,” Hermione offered.

Seamus looked grateful, if a bit confused, and settled in beside Hermione. “Pass the toast, please, I’m starving.”

Harry passed over a few breakfast items, and Hermione passed him the juice. Fred and George piled strawberries over his waffles into a large pyramid until Seamus beat their hands off with his.

Hermione laughed as George pulled out a music ball from his robe and sent tit zinging down the tables. Some strange and utterly random Muggle song came singing out of it singing “And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson… Koo-koo-ka-choo, Mrs. Robinson--”

The Gryffindor table busted up laughing as the song ball bumped into Neville, who turned red as it serenaded him. Neville pushed it away in embarrassment, and it rolled down towards Angelina Johnson, bumping into her stack of pancakes and singing to her.

Angelina blushed and laughed into her stack of pancakes. She sent it zinging down the table to assault someone else further down.

Hermione laughed, amused by the twins, as always, even if they did blatantly stupid things like try to deceive Dumbledore’s age lines.

The owls came in shortly after Ron had finished polishing off an entire plate of sausages, dropping off late Christmas parcels, letters, random postcards, and miscellaneous subscriptions.

Errol, came winging in fashionably late, a bright red envelope clutched in his beak. He skidded down the Gryffindor table, tumbling into a pile of pancakes, skidding down with his feet tangled in pats of butter, and then coming to rest covered in one of the pitchers of cream. The faithful, if fatalistic bird, hooted dizzily, still clutching the red envelope with dedication.

“Ruddy bird is a menace,” Fred and George chimed in. “Mum and Dad really need to retire him.”

Errol hooted hopefully, holding the red envelope dutifully. The envelope was starting to shudder, gathering heat.

“Ron!” Ginny hissed. “You have to open it!”

“No, I don’t,” Ron answered, going back to his eggs.

“RON! You’ll hurt Errol if it blows up!”

“Don’t be taking it out on the owl, Ron,” Neville said softly. “I’m sure whoever sent it isn’t going to like that you blew up their owl.”

The envelope was starting to smoke. People were starting to get nervous. Errol was standing there on the table, holding the smoking envelope obliviously, even as he dripped butter, jam, and cream.

Hermione let out an exasperated sound, grabbed the envelope and tossed it down on the table and grabbed the owl around the legs and moved him further down the table to sit in front of Fred and George.

Ron, grabbing the Howler in his hand, crushed it, and threw it into the nearby fireplace, where the letter exploded in a puff of magical residue.

Multiple sets of eyes just stared at him disbelievingly. There wasn’t one student in Hogwarts that believed destroying a Howler was going to help anyone’s situation.

Fred and George were pointing their wands at poor Errol, trying to clean the cream and jam off him. The poor old owl was looking around hopefully for a owl treat for his efforts.

Ginny reached into her pocket and handed Errol the treat, patting him on the head in reassurance.

As half the Gryffindor table stared at Ronald Weasley, a parliament of owls flew over the table, dropping red envelope after red envelope, but unlike Errol, did not stop.

10 rustling red envelopes gathered around Ron, shuddering with heat.

Ron looked like he was about to do the same to each of the new arrivals, when the wax seal on each one of them opened by itself. The red envelopes animated, twisting into snarling fanged mouth and began to scream simultaneously:

 

RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!

 

HOW DARE YOU TRY AND IGNORE AND INCINERATE MY LETTERS TO YOU! I HOPE YOU GET THESE AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE IN FRONT OF ALL OF THE PEOPLE WHO MIGHT HAVE CALLED YOU FRIEND!

I HAVE HEARD SOME PRETTY HORRIBLE THINGS COMING FROM HOGWARTS ABOUT YOU, AND I AM ABSOLUTELY ASHAMED OF YOU. YOUR FATHER IS PREPARED TO PULL YOU OUT OF SCHOOL AND SELL YOU OFF TO THE MUGGLE CIRCUS.

WHATEVER POSSESSED YOU TO LOCK YOUR OWN FRIEND OUT OF GRYFFINDOR TOWER, YOU NEED TO GET IT OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM RIGHT NOW, YOUNG MAN, BECAUSE I SWEAR TO MERLIN, IF YOU PUT EVEN AN EYELASH OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BE BRINGING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME AND SENDING YOU OUT TO CHARLIE TO SHOVEL DRAGON DUNG UNTIL YOU’RE FORTY!

The howlers paused and turned towards Hermione and said in a normal tone of voice.

Oh, and Hermione, dear. If he gives you any more trouble, just kick him right between the legs. I guarantee he won’t be needing anything there after I’m done with him.

 

The Howlers raspberried Ron at the same time and burst into flames together, leaving piles of ash all over the table.

Hermione averted her eyes from staring at Ron, while just about everyone else in the Great Hall, including the honoured guests, stared holes into him.

“His mom. Scary!” Draco gestured from across the hall.

“Agreed,” Hermione signed back, eyes still wide.

The professors at the High Table were looking towards Ron and talking amongst themselves.

Ron’s ears were turning as red as his hair. He stood up and stormed out of the Great Hall without a further word.

Hermione sighed, rubbing the space between her eyes automatically.

“Mum wants us to invite you to come to the Burrow for a little post-Christmas celebration, Hermione,” Fred and George chimed.

“Harry’s already been invited. It’d be nice if you came,” Ginny said. “But… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to decline this time around… considering…”

“Thanks guys,” Hermione said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Fred touched her shoulder. “Our brother is a git. But we’re not so bad.”

Hermione smiled at him and looked out the direction Ronald left. She shook her head and allowed the mutterings of the Great Hall swallow her up once more.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
    
    
    Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs
    
    
            as they need, and ye can;
    
    
         But kill not for pleasure of killing, and SEVEN TIMES NEVER
    
    
            KILL MAN. - The Law of the Jungle (Kipling)  

“Hi,” Viktor said.

“Zdrasti,” Hermione said.

“Thank you,” Aleksander said.

“M…mnogo blagodaria,” Hermione attempted to remember and twist her tongue around the phrase.

“You’re welcome!” Lazar added.

Hermione paused. “Ti… si dobre do…shal,” Hermione said, looking at Lazar with a funny face.

“Sorry,” Petya said.

“Erm…” Hermione scratched her head. “Sajaliavam.”

“Easier to say sorry, no?” Viktor chuckled.

“Much,” Hermione agreed.

“Now you know vhy English so strange to us,” Aleksander said cheerfully. “Though… not all Durmstrang from Bulgaria.”

“Just the best,” Valko said, sticking his tongue out.

Hermione laughed. “I think you may be biased.”

“Mmm… you tink?” Petya replied.

“Oh I do think, bátko” Hermione laughed.

“Gah!” Petya moaned. “She learn too fast, and she call me older brother.”

“Vell you are old and her brother,” Lazar ribbed him. “Our sestrá fast learner.”

“Enough,” Viktor said, waving his hand dismissively. “Ve hunt. Valko, you flush. Petya, you tire. Lazar and Aleksander, block the chase.”

“Da, drugar,” the four said immediately, taking wing with the flap of fiery wings.

Viktor extended a hand to Hermione, pulling her up. He touched her cheek gently, his thumb brushing the snow off skin. He smiled at her, and sprung aloft, his great black wings carrying him away.

Hermione followed, chasing him with a flurry of wing-beats that sent snow whirling in all directions.

The hunt was on. Valko was zooming through the undergrowth, making noise with both his voice and his wings with Petya close behind, ready to give chase. Aleksander and Lazar fanned out on two sides, forming an arc as they flushed their target prey in front of them.

Sika deer flushed before them, and Viktor dropped down lower to give chase, snapping at each one, testing them for weakness. The fast ones darted away and backwards, but Viktor ignored them. He snapped at another, ignored, and another.

The deer stumbled, breaking off from the group, but the choice had been made. Viktor let out a baying howl, and Petya took over, driving the buck in front with both sound and wings.

The buck attempted to break off, but Lazar drove it back. The buck attempted to bolt off in the opposite direction, but Aleksander drove it towards the fields and out of the forest as Viktor brought up the rear, striking fear into his target to keep it running.

By the time the stag broke from the trees, Viktor snapped at the stag’s legs quickly, causing it to trip further. It struggled to keep going, panicked to run, but its strength was failing.

By the time the stag tripped up again, Hermione let out a piercing scream and descended into a dive. Her talons stretched outward as her claws poised. She landed upon the stag with a cry, sinking her talons in as her beak snapped upon its spine, breaking it cleanly. Her rear legs pumped, raking her claws across the belly. The stag shuddered under her bulk and collapsed.

Hermione stayed perfectly still, even her wings were frozen in place, half extended, as her front talons clenched reflexively and then released. Viktor raced up to her as her sides heaved with exertion, his breathing elevated as he panted. Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya landed shortly after, their talons digging into the coarse pelt of the fallen Sika stag. They waited, silently.

Hermione, sliced into the carcass with her beak, tearing into the soft underbelly to retrieve the liver. With a soft chirp, she held the offering out to Viktor.

His teeth sank into the offering and he tore into it hungrily, growling.

Hermione’s beak dove in again, seeking the tender strip of meat she was looking for. She yanked it free from the carcass and severed off a section of it, offering it Aleksander, another to Lazar, another to Valko, and finally one to Petya. Each bird took the offering and tore into it, making it disappear.

Viktor rubbed up against her, running his muzzle along her side and across her cheek. He tore into the carcass with his muzzle and pulled out free the heart, holding it in his jaws to her.

Hermione slowly took it into her beak, then in a flash snap of it, made it disappear. And with that, the covenant appeased, they fed their combined hunger together, sharing the feast until the bones were picked clean, leaving only what the scavengers would make quick work of.

Once the hunt and subsequent feast was over, Viktor and Hermione lay together in a patted down area in the snow. Hermione preened Viktor’s wings with her beak as Viktor groomed her beak and feathers clean. In the trees, the elemental birds preened themselves.

Hermione lay her head down in the snow, her body heat causing the area around her to steam. She closed her eyes as Viktor’s methodical grooming set her at ease. When the birds took off and flew towards the ship anchored in Black Lake, Viktor stood, shaking off the collection of snowflakes gathering on his body. He ran his muzzle across her cheek, lapping her neck scruff with a whine.

Hermione nudged him with her beak, giving a soft eagle chuckle.

Viktor leapt into the air, wings unfurling to catch the currents and carry him upward, chasing after his comrades as they flew back towards the Durmstrang ship.

Yawning beakily, Hermione took off towards Hogwarts, sailing lazily in the evening air. She landed in the courtyard in an instinctive and automatic disillusionment, shivering as the cold of the season chilled her human body. She pulled her robe around her closer, thankful for it’s charmed warmth. She made her way down into the Dungeons through the empty hallway corridors.

As she approached the portrait portal, the portrait swung open without her saying anything, signalling her Master being awake and expecting her.

Severus was sitting on the long couch, sipping tea and reading from one of his many tomes.

Hermione smiled as she saw the familiar sight and the portal closed behind her. She fell back onto all fours and stretched with a chirp. She yawned with her beak wide before padding across the room and leapt onto the couch and sprawled down, laying her over-sized eagle head in her Master’s lap.

:Have a good evening?: Severus asked, purring into her mind with his ubiquitous presence that seemed even stronger now that she was in his “lair.”

Vik popped out from under Severus’ hair, exposing himself upon his mistress’ return. He chirped sweetly and burrowed into Hermione’s neck feathers.

:Yes, Master,: she replied sleepily, rubbing her head against him.

:Good,: came his simple reply, his hand gently running through her head feathers as he read his book.

Hermione took in the smell of the room and the nearer scent of the one she considered “home.” She was asleep within seconds, soothed by the comfort of her Master’s scent and the touch of his hand upon her head.

It wasn’t long after Hermione fell asleep that his own eyes closed unbidden, the book in his hands slipped to the floor, and he slumped on the couch with a gryphon sprawled across him, sharing her heat and company on a brisk winter night. Their combined soft snores filled the chambers with a sound not so unlike the purring of a great cat as Master and Apprentice were joined together in sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you even imagine what it would be like to be stalked by more than 5 let alone 10 howlers sent by Molly Weasley? I’d just want to sit in the middle of them and let them explode and kill me, I think, long before I let them scream at me in front of the entire school at breakfast time.


	25. What is Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione contemplates what home means to her.

**Chapter 25: What is Home**

Every time Hermione went “home” during breaks, she felt… less like it was her home. Perhaps, it was because she only saw “home” a few weeks out of the year and the rest of the time was under the vast encompassing roof of Hogwarts. Maybe, it was because when she went home, her room was exactly has she had left it when she was eleven, save for a few additions here and there when she visited.

Hermione parted her lips, taking in the scent of her room with curiosity. Her lips curled back from her teeth slightly, feeling even more discombobulated.

Her parents, happy to see her home, embraced her eagerly, and she returned it happily, but a part of her felt like a stranger in her own parent’s house. Since when did she call it her parent’s house instead of her home?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she rubbed the area between her eyes in her discomfort. It wasn’t like she was returning to abuse. She had no ill feelings for her parents. Her parents were supportive, or as much as two Muggles who had a witch for a daughter could be supportive… Her parents loved her, she had very little doubt. She didn’t get into rows with them over small or large topics. There was nothing inherently wrong with the Granger family. They weren’t always the most demonstrative of parents when she was away, but they weren’t completely indifferent to her, and they were definitely not something Harry had to deal with when living with the Dursleys.

Yet, as she had struggled to get gifts for her parents for the late post-Christmas occasion, she found herself thinking of a hundred and some potion ingredients or random Wizarding trinkets instead of cologne names and typical family knick-knacks.

As she sat in her Muggle jeans and sweater, she felt… strangely out of place, as if she were creeping around the halls of Hogwarts out of uniform and Filch would come sailing around the corner yelling.

It was the scents that bothered her the most, or rather, the lack of. As much as she adored the scent of her mother’s cooking, she missed the scent of her Master and his chambers. She missed Draco’s scent of freshly-mowed hay mixed with bergamont, Viktor’s musk and scent of the sea combined, and pervasive scent of the dungeon laboratories and the mixture of countless herbs of Severus’ storage closet.

Vik poked his head out from Hermione’s hair and chirped curiously, and Hermione smiled, transferring the little creature to her bed as she flopped down upon it. He trotted along the comforter and fluttered onto her bookshelf, seemingly inspecting its contents. He alighted on the lampshade and fluttered, trying to remain balanced, then moved on to snuffle around her writing desk. Vik nosed the pencils and pens that were gathered in a small jar, grabbed one with his beak, and carried it over to the side and cast it off the side. Vik stared at it as though it had not done what he expected, though Hermione had no idea what the little creature was expecting.

Vik fluttered back to her and rubbed up against her hands happily, enjoying her attention as she stroked his head and wings. She hadn’t introduced the little hippogriff to her parents, and wasn’t sure if that would be a wise idea anyway. Explaining him would be one issues. Trying to explain an emotional connection to him would be another. Her parents lived in a very cut and dry “living things breath” mentality, and Vik the Hippogriff was probably not the way she wanted to start up a discussion on the matter.

Hermione wanted to shift forms and sprawl out over the bed to relax, but a part of her wondered if her old bed would tolerate having a few hundred kilogrammes of fur, feathers, and beak sprawled on top of it.

And there lay yet another thing she had kept from her parents. “Mum, dad,” she played out in her mind. “I can turn into a mythical creature. It’s not normal even for witches and wizards, but I never could be normal.” No, that was not going to be a good conversation any way she tried to spin it. She filed that conversation away with things like “Mum, dad, this is my Master, Severus Snape,” “These are my brothers from Bulgaria,” and “That steak looks really good, don’t bother cooking it.”

Hermione sighed. Tomorrow, she would have to deal with being social at the Burrow, and now that Ron was being a certifiable prat, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, even if she had other people to be happier about seeing.

Viktor had volunteered to “be her escort” to the Burrow if she was really feeling like Ron was going to try anything, and her brothers had eagerly volunteered to be “proper guardians of their little sister’s honour.” As much as she would have loved to see the drama having a regiment of Durmstrang show up with her at the Burrow, she had a feeling that wasn’t going to help her situation with Ron. That being said, however, she really wanted to have Viktor and his brothers show up anyway. Ginny would be beside herself. Fred and George would be wanting autographs. Some for themselves… and some to sell for profit. Goblins, the both of them.

Hermione decided to compromise. She scrawled a message on a piece of parchment and tied it to Vik with a smile. “Take this to Viktor, please,” she instructed the little hippogriff. The miniature hippogriff snuffled her face affectionately and flew over to the window and waited. She opened the window, shivering at the cold, and let Vik out. Owls? Who needed owls?

Crookshanks padded in from the hallway and leapt onto her bed with a meow. He smelled like tuna. Apparently, he hadn’t wasted any time buttering up her mother for tasty tidbits.

It was quite a bit later when Vik tapped his beak against her window glass. She let the little hippogriff in, and he darted in quickly, fluttering in and landed on top of Crookshanks. Crooks flopped on his side on Hermione’s pillow and curled his paws around Vik as if to welcome him back.

Taking the hint, Hermione closed the window and changed into her pyjamas before she slid in under the covers and closed her eyes at last.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Burrow was ablaze with excitement this particular winter day, and even though Christmas was technically past, one would never have guessed by the flurry of activity going on in the Weasley’s home.

Molly Weasley zoomed around the house like her own personal storm, setting out table settings and making the most marvellous food smells to grace the noses of all who attended. Her ability to take humble foods and turn them into something spectacular was never so evident than during the holidays.

Herding both her children, her “adopted” children, and the adults around like a herding dog with sheep, Mrs. Weasley was a master of seemingly doing everything at once.

Lupin and Sirius had engaged Arthur in an excited debate on Muggle “technology” that had recently been under investigation at the Ministry of Magic after a raid. Arthur, as to be expected, was entirely fascinated by Muggle things. He found Muggle inventions to do things the Wizarding world had been doing since time immemorial absolutely intriguing.

Ron, or so it seemed, had been on better behaviour for the entire morning, bringing a sort of relief throughout the house. However, if there had been any doubt as to what was his trigger into 101 ways to be a total prat, it was never more evident than when Hermione arrived at the door with none other than the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum at her side.

Ginny, much to be expected, squealed with delight as she slammed into Hermione with a hug that practically defied gravity. She blushed fiercely when Viktor bowed his head to her.

Crookshanks, who had been curled up lazily in Viktor’s arms, leapt down and made himself a pest around the Burrow, batting at ornaments and tinsel like he was just another normal cat.

Little Vik darted around like a hummingbird, charming the pants off of any who was in range, save for Ron, who just glared at the little hippogriff with disdain.

Fred and George took turns tying things to Little Vik to see how much he could carry and still fly, which ended abruptly when Molly saw her favourite mixing bowl being flown around the house by a small hippogriff.

Molly, however, was not immune to Vik’s inner charm, and soon, she was cooking away in the kitchen with the little hippogriff chirping to her from her shoulder.

Quidditch became the talk of the living room, and it seemed like every male save one was eager to interrogate Viktor about his experiences on the Bulgarian Quidditch team. Ginny was no exception to the excitement as she gleefully joined in on the Quidditch talk.

Hermione, still not overly impressed with Quidditch, ended up somewhat dozing off, and Viktor pulled her against him as he spoke to the crowd. Subtly, he pulled her against his side in manner where his scent was strong, knowing that she would take comfort in it. Hermione, appreciating his socially acceptable gesture that was so much more under the surface, snuggled into him.

The moment Viktor’s arm pulled Hermione to him, Ron’s mouth descended into despicable and shameful sniping.

Sirius, Arthur, and Remus exchanged glances, having just seen first hand what Ron was all about, stood up, dragged Ron off outside “for a talk long overdue,” and disappeared for the next few hours until Molly yelled out into the fields that dinner was ready and so help her if she had to reheat anything.

When the adult males came shuffling back in, with Ron behind, looking utterly submissive, a great sigh of relief seemed to descend upon the Burrow.

And Hermione, as much as she wished to believe Ron had seen the light, was reserving her forgiveness for when she was sure he was really repentant. All the forgiveness in the world wasn’t going to do much if he was only temporarily chastened.

Viktor, nothing if not observant, stayed at her side the entire visit, always sure to offer both his touch and scent in a manner he knew was important to both her and her inner gryphon.

Dinner went without a hitch, but not without humour. Fred and George charmed a turkey leg to come alive and lunge and Ginny, causing her to squeal in surprise and almost fall off her chair. Sirius shared the improvements and restorations he did on his place at Grimmauld place to make it ultimately more habitable. Harry noted, with a little cheer, that the place even let the sun in and that there weren’t bars on the windows. Everyone agreed that Harry was much better off with Sirius, even if it was a dilapidated shack in the middle of the Dark Forest rather than with the Dursleys.

Molly mothered Remus mercilessly the entire night, commenting on his health, that he needed to eat more, and a hundred other things that had the children at the table were glad that they weren’t the ones being picked on that particular moment.

Arthur whipped out Muggle board games after dinner, and everyone had fun trying to explain to Viktor how to play them. Hermione caught Ron staring at her throughout the night, but at least he had control over his mouth in front of his family. Each time Ron got looked like he was about to say something, Viktor would catch his eyes, staring back at him with his own impenetrable black ones.

By the time things had started to wind down into a dull roar of snoring, Sirius and Remus snagged Hermione and Viktor and respectfully bowed out. Molly wouldn’t allow them to leave empty handed, packing them all baskets filled with leftovers and baked goods. She gave Remus the largest basket, telling him he needed it more. Sirius punched him on the shoulder as they left the Burrow carrying more than they had brought in.

Sirius offered his arm for a side-along, and Hermione smirked, allowing him to pull her near as Remus took Viktor with him. They arrived outside the gates of Hogwarts in light laughter.

“I bid you good evening, Moony,” Sirius laughed as he pointed at the large basket of baked goods and leftover food. “Try not to stuff yourself silly.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” Remus snapped. “You know full well she’s been trying to fatten me up for over a decade.

“And yet, you’re as skinny as a bean pole, you scruffy looking wolf,” Sirius ribbed.

“I can’t help that everything I gain, I lose,” Moony huffed.

“Weight loss for the Wizarding world. Just let old Moony give you a little nip under the full moon,” Sirius barked.

“Do stuff it, Snuffles,” Remus scoffed. “Or are you so much wanting of a good flea dip?”

“Dey sound like my brothers,” Viktor said as he escorted her back into Hogwarts.

“Just like them, actually,” Hermione agreed with a tired smile.

Viktor chuckled as little Vik chirped his agreement from Hermione’s hair.

“You think there is enough in that basket to share with the hungry birds?” Hermione asked in reference to Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya.

“I tink so,” Viktor lifted the basket up speculatively. “If not, ve hunt together again soon enough.”

Hermione smiled. It had been odd suddenly having company on her hunts. Odd… and comforting in a way that she was fairly sure those who didn’t have second forms that were apex predators wouldn’t understand. Then again, not all apex predators were social, but it seemed that the part of them that was human tempered the beast into something that walked a line between. “It was odd at first… having someone to hunt with other than Draco.”

“He hunt vith you?” Viktor questioned.

“Mmmhmm,” Hermione answered. “Severus has us drill together regularly. Mounted and non.”

“Your Master is wise,” Viktor said respectfully.”Look ahead better than most.”

Hermione nodded. “He wants us to be prepared. More prepared than he was, he says, when he was my age.”

“Sign of good Master, Her-my-own,” Viktor said softly. “He vatch for danger always to protect things dear to him. Sad that so few here under dis roof… can see it. Dhough… probably best dat only few do now that storm is brewing. Storm dat only few of us can see and know what it means.”

“Sometimes it’s hard… knowing,” Hermione said as seriousness washed over her face.

Viktor put his palm to her cheek, brushing the surface of her skin with his thumb. “It hard to be animagus surrounded by dhose that cannot understand. No matter how well dhey vish to. Is harder still, to know someting coming and must do nothing, lest secret reveal too early.”

“Dis is vhy Durmstrang strong,” Viktor continued. “Durmstrang know power not in blood. Power here,” he said, placing his hand upon her heart. “Power here,” he said as he touched her temple with his finger. “Strength in purpose. Unity in heart. Protect vhat you care for… to dying breath.”

Hermione smiled at Viktor genuinely and nodded. “Your High Master… Igor… he makes us think Durmstrang is a pure-blood only institution. That is why… I have such a hard time understanding how close I have become to you and your brothers.”

“Durmstrang old,” Viktor replied. “Older than Igor. Older than most tink. Long ago, created by great Bulgarian witch named Nerida Vulchanova. Dere vas no pure-blood then. Only dhose that can use magic and dhose that could not. Later, some tink she killed, and position taken by Harfang Munter, vho turned school into one of duelling and magic of var. Trends come and go, but some of us remember older ways than Igor. One day, Igor will meet his end, and Durmstrang will change again, like the swell of seas. Ve vill remain strong because ve have to be strong. To protect vhat is most important.”

Viktor held her hand to his mouth and gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand as they approached the corridor leading down to the dungeons. “Even if vhat is between us never progress beyond. You always be Sky Sister. I protect you till dying breath. Dis I swear.”

Hermione trembled slightly, biting her lip as she looked into Viktor’s black eyes.

“I ask permission,” Viktor said softly.

Hermione’s eyes widened, and felt her stomach grow alive with butterflies. “Yes,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

Viktor’s eyes flicked downward, and he leaned down, gently pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was gentle as his hand wove into the hair on the back of her head, pulling her into him.

Hermione practically lost her grip on the basket of food she was carrying.

Viktor pulled away slowly, gently brushing her hair back from her ear with his fingers. “Goodnight, Ari,” he rumbled softly. “Had good time today.”

Hermione shook off her stunned look as she realised Viktor had used her nickname.

“Found name in book in library,” Viktor said as he bowed goodnight. “Seem appropriate.”

Hermione beamed and dropped into a curtsy. “Goodnight,” she replied softly.

Viktor turned and retreated down the corridor to the courtyard, heading back to the Durmstrang ship.

Hermione’s brain was so lost in thought as she headed towards Severus’ private chambers that she almost forgot to disillusion herself. She hustled down the corridor, suddenly glad that no one could see her face flushed so red it could have matched Aleksander’s fiery wings.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus returned to his chambers late. It was far more late than his usual “late.” His errand running for the old man was annoying, but at least it had been months since the last time Dumbledore had demanded him fetch something in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t send Draco and Hermione off to fetch things in just the same utterly random time of night for his own equally important reasons, but Severus hardly believed Albus cared for him as he had come to care about his two unlikely charges. He was pretty sure that Albus forgot he was even there until he needed something.

Irritating old man.

As he walked out of the antechamber into the larger living quarters, all of his frustration melted away as he realised there would always be one creature that roamed the world with him that would never cease think of him in both peacetime and war.

Hermione was sprawled out in the middle of his room rug, wings spread out as she lay on her back, her lions legs and eagle talons splayed outward and up in random directions. Vik the Hippogriff was sitting on her stomach in a far more dignified position than his mistress. Beside her was a plumply filled basket of what could only be food from her excursion to the Burrow.

When Viktor had come to his chamber to beg an audience, he had no idea what he Durmstrang youth had intended. He had dropped to his knees in front of him like a supplicant, and begged permission to both escort Hermione to the Burrow and, in the future, court his Apprentice.

It had been a good thing Severus had vast experience keeping his expression completely deadpan, or he might have done something unseemly in front of the Bulgarian Seeker that would not have been remotely dignified.

Viktor Krum was, without a doubt, a naturally skilled wizard. He was bright, intelligent, experienced, and a natural born leader. Those things aside, the young man had a deep resounding respect for his elders and his betters. He also respected Hermione in a way it seemed her own peers could not. Hermione could do so much worse than Viktor Krum. And, Viktor was an animagus… cut from the same supernatural cloth as Hermione… a cloth that defied all the rules that animagi could only be an animal from the natural world.

He and his brothers would, he knew, be honour bound to protect their sister till their dying breath, with or without the element of courtship.

Severus had approved Viktor’s appeal, adding the expected conditions that if he ever hurt her, that he would take it out on his corpse.

Viktor had smiled at that, saying, he would expect no less of Hermione’s Master.

When Severus had asked why Viktor would appeal to him for permission over her biological father, Viktor gave him an almost sad smile.

“Her loyalty to you absolute,” Viktor had told him. “Her love for you greater than parents. Greater than friend. Dere is no one else dat has her respect and trust so strong, and I would ask no one else but you.”

Seeing the gryphon laying on his room carpet made the memory sink in a little deeper. She rolled her head back and forth on the carpet, nostrils flaring. She focused on him and gave a small affectionate chirp.

He sat down beside her, gently rubbing her exposed belly.

Hermione groaned softly, the sound coming out a strange purr that resonated from her open beak. Her eyelids fluttered.

As his hand pulled away, her eyes opened, and she looked into his eyes, her adoration as plain in her eyes as it would have been on a human face.

:Did your trip to the Burrow go well, my Apprentice?: he asked softly.

:Better than I expected,: she replied to him, nudging his hand with her beak so he’d keep rubbing.

Severus smirked at her forward request, but obliged her, soothing her soft fur.

:I brought you dinner, my Master,: she said warmly.

:Spoils from the Weasley Matriarch?:

:Best kind, Master,: Hermione said. :There’s even pie.:

Severus gently rubbed the area between her “ears” and let his eyes show the smile his face could not. “Thank you,” he said out-loud.

Hermione’s mental presence surrounded him in a warmth as strong as her body heat filled the room. :You are welcome, my Master.”


	26. A Wet Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Neville find a solution to Harry's screaming egg problem.

**Chapter 26: A Wet Problem**

Harry sat on the the edge of the pier, cradling his golden egg with frustration. In all of the excitement in the past few weeks, the last thing he had been thinking about was the golden egg. The egg however, was not being overly helpful. Its high pitched wailing was enough to set his teeth together and throw it into the lake.

Spring was starting to creep across the landscape, and it was warm enough that Neville was nearby wading in the water as he ooo and aahhhed over countless water plants he was interested in.

“How is it that you are so horrible in potions, but so great in Herbology, Neville?” Harry questioned.

Neville looked sheepish. “You have to admit that Professor Sprout is more amicable than P…p…professor Snape.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “True.”

“I do prefer… the plant to what it is used for though,” Neville admitted. “I’m not like Hermione at all.”

“No one can be like Hermione, Neville,” Harry placated. “She’s the only one he doesn’t yell at for making horrible potions.”

“No, he yells at her for everything else,” Neville replied.

“Yeah…” Harry said with a shake of his head. “If they didn’t go at each other like dragons in a library, can you imagine how much Hermione would know by now?”

Neville paused in the water as he lifted some pond weed off the lake floor. “That’s kinda scary,” he admitted. “I bet he hates her even more now that he’s forced her into detention all the time.”

Harry looked guilty. “She’s always defending me.”

“She’s always helping me, Harry!” Neville argued. “I’m just as guilty. Doesn’t help I blew up my cauldron on her this morning.”

“You even got Malfoy with that cauldron, Neville,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “She’s going to kill you for sticking her together with Malfoy.”

Neville shuddered with wide eyes. “At least Snape just sent me to detention and docked points. Hermione is going to kill me.”

“I went to visit her in the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey caught me and ran me out,” Harry said. “She said she has to have Snape brew a solvent for it to get them apart.”

“Merlin,” Neville whimpered. “She’s not even going to let me apologise. She’s just going to murder me in the middle of the Great Hall.”

Harry rubbed his hand in his hair. “I wish I could say it wouldn’t be like her to hold a grudge… but you did stick her to… Malfoy.”

“Maybe if I… get her a lot of chocolate?” Neville speculated.

“Make sure they are the cherry filled ones,” Harry suggested.

“Really think that will help?”

“Better than nothing,” Harry replied hopefully.

Neville gulped and threw a pile of lake weed onto the pier to go through later and it landed over Harry’s golden egg.

“Ew, Neville,” Harry groaned, trying to pick the weeds off his egg.

“Sorry,” Neville said sheepishly.

Harry tugged the weeds off the latch of the egg. The latch snapped open and the egg opened, sending out a loud screech across the lake. Harry fumbled with the egg to try and close it, but the weeds just tangled up more. The golden egg, now even more entangled in the weeds, slipped out of his hand and plopped into the water.

Harry cursed loudly, cast off his outer robe, and dove into the water after it.

Neville rushed over to where he saw Harry dive in, worried when he realised he hadn’t come up yet. Had the weeds dragged him down? Did he just drown his friend?

Harry came up for air with a huge gasp. “Neville!” He grabbed Neville by the collar. “You have to hear this!” Harry dove in again, this time dragging Neville in by the collar.

Harry and Neville came up sputtering quite a few seconds later, both of them wide eyed.

They pulled themselves up onto the dock, shivering from their unexpected dip in the lake. They looked at each other as they dripped over each other, using their hands to wring out their clothes. They met each other’s gaze after a moment. “Wow,” they chimed together, and fell back onto the dock laughing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I’m getting a little tired of seeing you here, Miss Granger,” Poppy Pomfrey admonished Hermione as she passed her wand over her and Draco.

“I was not seeking this out, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said as she lay her head back on the pillow.

“Nor was I,” Draco muttered as Pomfrey ran her wand over him as well.

“Yet, I’ve seen the both of you countless times,” Pomfrey argued.

“I’m innocent, I tell you,” Draco moaned.

“Ffft,” Hermione grunted. “Innocent of this, perhaps, but hardly innocent.”

“Shut it, Granger.”

“You first, Malfoy.”

“Quiet, the both of you,” Pomfrey chided. “You’ve been at each other all morning. I can’t think of two worse people to have bonded together.”

“Psh,” Draco muttered.

“Meh,” Hermione answered.

“Shh,” Pomfrey said. “You two lie here like two civilised people until Professor Snape comes to unglue the two of you.”

Draco and Hermione grunted a reply that seemed to satisfy Pomfrey. The medi-witch stormed off, clucking her tongue and muttering to herself.

When Pomfrey had left earshot, the pair busted up giggling to each other.

“So, how was it?” Draco asked.

“Was what?” Hermione replied.

“Your date, Ari,” Draco clarified.

Hermione blushed, temperature rising. “We just went hunting together.”

“Yeah without the bloody cauldron of magical raptors,” Draco insisted. “How often does that happen?”

Hermione blushed harder. “I’ll have you know, we spend time in the library together without it being a date.”

“Yeah, but I know what hunting means to you,” Draco ribbed her. “Don’t think I just fell off the waggon.”

“I hunt with you too, Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said sternly.

“Oh it’s come to this, has it, Hermione Jean?” Draco shook her cage a little more.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Hermione hissed.

“Can’t leave you two alone for a minute, can I?” Severus rumbled as he stood over them.

Two pairs of innocent eyes stared back at Severus.

“That look stopped working on me when you turned two, Draco,” Severus tsked, unstopping the bottle in his hand. He poured some out on a cloth and began to wipe the joined flesh of their combined arms. “I swear to Merlin Neville Longbottom is a danger to himself and everyone around him.”

“Only if a cauldron is involved, Severus,” Draco said with a shake of his head.

Draco sighed with relief as his arm fell away from Hermione’s.

Severus checked their arms for residue and nodded. “At least this was easily fixed. I’m waiting for one of his cauldrons to explode and send half the class into a time rift, soul bind two people who hate each other, turn someone into a whale, reverse ages someone to the age of five and have us scrambling to make the antidote, or just bloody kill someone,” Severus said with a sniff.

Hermione and Draco blinked at him.

Severus levelled his gaze to his two charges. “You cannot tell me you haven’t speculated on what horrible thing the boy is going to do next.”

Hermione cast her gaze down. “I may have pondered it.”

Snape shook his head. “Off with you, Draco. I need to yell at Ms. Granger so Madam Pomfrey thinks I’m being mean to her.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Draco smirked. “See you two later.” He shuffled out of the hospital wing.

Hermione stood from the bed and sighed. Looking around to make sure that both no one was around and that she was safely hidden behind the privacy curtain, she walked into Severus with a grunt, wrapping her arms around his waist. Knowing he was going to dress her down to tears shortly, she had to mentally prepare herself for the shift, or a part of her would take it seriously, which was something neither of them wanted.

Severus gently pulled her head against his chest, soothing her hair as he would her feathers. :Tell me when you are ready,: he whispered, projecting warmth.

Hermione gathered herself, pushing her normal emotions deep and selectively shoving her painful emotions forward. :I am ready, Master.: Tears trickled down her face as she stepped away from him, staring up into his face as she concentrated on looking as pathetic as possible.

“Get out of my sight, Ms. Granger,” Severus hissed loudly. “You wasted three of my very busy hours brewing that stupid solvent to get you pried off one of my House, and I am tired of having to look at someone who can’t even get out of the way of a cauldron when it obviously ready to blow up. Get. Out.”

“Y…yes, Professor Snape,” Hermione stammered, bursting into tears as she fled the hospital wing.

Severus waited a few seconds before turning and walking towards the door.

“You’re too mean to that poor girl, Severus,” Pomfrey growled at him. “She’s a sweet girl that doesn’t deserve your rancour.”

“If she was half as good as people seem to think she is, Pomfrey,” Severus hissed. “She would have known to get out of the way.”

“Mr. Malfoy was here, just like her, are you going to go yell at him too?” Pomfrey countered.

“Mr. Malfoy is not an insufferable know-it-all,” Snape growled, turning on his heels and sweeping out of the hospital wing.

Poppy shook her head. Severus Snape really needed a friend.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione fled the potions classroom in tears as she clutched her books to her chest. She passed a few of the other straggling students, sniffling, causing them to murmur sympathetically to her situation. She exited Hogwarts and took the path down towards Black Lake, out of sight from prying eyes. When she was sufficiently far enough away from Hogwarts, she shook off her tears and attempted to look less horrible.

Viktor was running up on the path from the ship, a gaggle of girls trailing behind him as per the usual routine. The fight in the Great Hall had, if anything, increased his popularity on the lists of many of the females of Hogwarts, and it didn’t seem to matter that Viktor gave them no interest.

“Sestrá,” Viktor said in greeting as he passed, a smirk on his face. He led the gaggle of followers up the path and away.

Hermione smirked, realising that Aleksander was running distraction for Viktor yet again. Protection of each other was ingrained within their group. How it manifested was sometimes far more amusing.

As she reached the shore of Black Lake, she tilted her head back, taking in the scent of the water and wind coming off it.

A scrape of foot against the path caught her attention, and part of Hermione cursed the direction of the wind having concealed the identity of who was behind her.

“Hey,” Ron said, shuffling uncomfortably.

A hundred things passed through Hermione’s mind at that given moment in the way of replies, but either to her credit or her fortune, none of them spewed forth. “Hey,” she returned greeting, eyes narrowing. It wasn’t like Ron to be… sneaky, at least not on his own. It made her nervous that he’d been paying attention to where she was going and followed her. Had she really been wanting not be followed, she knew he would never have found her, but the fact he had followed her at all set a seed of ill ease in her stomach.

“Look, I’m sorry for being a real git to you the past few months, ‘mione,” Ron said. “I realise I’ve been misunderstanding what you’ve been trying to tell me, and I’m sorry I’ve been too self-absorbed to realise it.”

Ron’s apology, had it come weeks or even months previous, would probably have been accepted with open arms and a hug, but Hermione chewed on his every word, analysing it with the thoroughness of a Slytherin.

Ron, taking her lack of answer as a need for elaboration, sighed. “I’m sorry, ‘mione. I just wanted you to know… so you don’t have to pretend anymore with Viktor just to get me mad anymore. I promise, next time, I’ll invite you to the Ball myself.”

Hermione stifled the immediate and overwhelming impulse to pinch the bridge of her nose as she cast her head backwards exactly as she’d seen her Master do when confronted with the sheer stupidity of his students. It was ludicrous, absolutely laughable, and completely off-base that Ron believed his error was misinterpreting her relationship with Viktor Krum as being a way to make Ron jealous on purpose.

“Ron,” Hermione said carefully. “I’m not with Viktor just to get a rise out of you. I just wanted you to treat me like a human being.”

Ron was approaching her now, and Hermione’s body tensed like a spring. Vik twittered with concern from her shoulder and darted off across the lake with furious wing beats, looking more like a hummingbird than a hippogriff. Her lips parted as she instinctively scented the air. There was a tang to Ron’s scent that she didn’t like at all. Ron’s arms were parted as if to give her a hug, looking all the world like the embrace of a spider coming in for its prey.

“After this year, anyway,” Ron continued. “We won’t have to worry about all these foreign people in our school anymore. It’ll be back to how use used to be, right?”

Hermione shook her head. “Ron,” she said softly. “It’s not that I won’t want to be your friend, but I think you’re…”

“Come on ‘mione,” Ron said darkly. “You don’t have to put on the act anymore.”

Somehow she had allowed herself to be pinned against a tree. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She clenched her hands, a trickle of blood dripped down to the ground as one of her half changed talons dug into her palm. Loyalty to the memory of her old friend warred with a newer desire that had nothing to do with reconciliation.

There was a crack in the air, and Ron froze in automatic response.

“There you are, my sister,” purred Lazar as he pulled her to him into a hug as little Vik chirped and dove into her hair. “Ve have been looking for you. Picnic lonely vithout you, and Petya going to eat all ze fish.” Lazar touched the back of her head, pressing her against his shoulder where his scent was strong as his piercing blue eyes met Ronald Weasley’s. He passed her fluidly to Valko.

Valko took her into his embrace, smothering his earthen scents over her as his hand too touched the back of Hermione’s head, soothing her hair as if they were feathers. “Petya also making roast venison,” he rumbled. “Should go before he burn it like last one.”

“Da,” Lazar rumbled as he positioned himself beside Valko and blocked Hermione from view. “Would be… truly horrific waste of good deer.” Lazar’s hand went over Hermione’s partially changed one, tucking it under his arm.

“Sorry for trouble,” Valko purred, as he locked gazes with Ronald. “To miss picnic of High Master grievous insult. Cannot allow sister to miss.”

“Come,” Lazar said, jerking his head officially.

Lazar and Valko herded Hermione in front of them, disappearing into the undergrowth with a speed so swift that Ron barely had time to realise they had gone before they were no where in sight.

“Hey Ron,” Harry yelled from up the path. “Ginny said you’d headed out here. Neville and I need your help. Why the heck are you out here by Black Lake? You usually never come out here without the rest of us.”

Ron clenched his fist. “Nothing,” he lied. “Just had to get a breather, is all.”

Harry gave his friend a look of concern and Ron hustled up the path to meet them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

“Mnogo blagodaria,” Hermione said wearily, as she buried her nose into her brother’s shoulders, rubbing her cheek against them like Crookshanks did so often.

“Most velcome, sestrá,” Lazar and Valko chimed together, placing their hands to the back of her head in an automatic reassuring gesture.

“He lucky ve come,” Lazar said lowly. “If ve come late, you may have have handed him face with beak. Much explaining afterword… troublesome.”

Hermione laughed, hanging her head. “He used to be a good friend, or at least, I used to think so.”

“Opinion change or he change?”

“Little of both, I think,” Hermione confessed. “We became friends before Severus took me under his wing.

Lazar rubbed her back. “I tink your Master better choice of options.”

Hermione leaned into him. “There is no contest between them,” she said. “I know who I would choose.”

As if thinking of him summoned him from the ether, a dark eagle owl flew towards them. Hermione looked up with the kind of relief that welled up like spring from the earth. As Severus’ body reformed into the dour looking Potion Master of Hogwarts, Hermione ran to him without hesitation. His arm opened in time for her to slam into him, burying herself in her Master’s embrace, scent, and presence.

Lazar and Valko exchanged amused glances as the impassive looking Potion Master enfolded his Apprentice with his arms, his hand pressing her head against him in an echo of the same gesture Lazar and Valko had done when rescuing her from Ronald Weasley. Severus’s great owl wings flapped and folded around her, fading into the dark drape of his outer robe.

Her Master’s presence being the only excuse she needed to allow hers emotions to burst forth, Hermione cried into his robes as she realised that while she had gained far more than she had lost, the friend she had held onto since her first year of Hogwarts was very likely lost to her. A portion of that long clutched innocence that had hung on to her early since childhood was cut away, leaving behind a more experienced and world weary Hermione.

When her body stilled against Severus, she took a deep breath and pulled back to look her Master in the eyes. There was no bitterness marring her expression, only thankfulness and a love that needed no retelling. Now, or twenty years from now, she would always choose the dark wizard over the childhood bond of friendship whose memory was the only remnant remaining to her. Her Master’s love was undeniable. Her friendships with Draco, Harry, Ginny, and others remained strong. Her bond with her Durmstrang brothers had proven, even in a relatively short amount of time, to be stronger than anything she had with Ron.

Viktor landed in the clearing with a thump, dark wings spread like the stretch of a thunderbird in the air as he landed. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a menacing snarl as his paws skidded in the dirt on impact.

Hermione looked up at Severus in silent question, and he inclined his head silently.

With a smile, she rushed to Viktor’s side, wrapping her arms around the simurgh’s scruffy neck, and buried her face into his fur and skin. The snarl on Viktor’s muzzle relaxed, and he whined and licked her face. His teeth bared and he grasped back of her neck with a clamp of his teeth. Hermione submitted to the symbolic gesture, knowing Viktor was taking comfort in her much as she had just done with Severus. He released the grip swiftly, nudging her with his head before he returned to his human form.

Bowing swiftly to Severus, he kept his eyes averted and down respectfully, instinctively deferring to the dark wizard. “Petya burn dinner. Ve must hunt and bring back another before High Master find out. Petya feeding evidence to squid.” He looked up at Severus in appeal. “Vould be honour, if Master join us for hunt.”

Severus’ dark eyes flickered with emotion so quick, it may not have happened at all. He inclined his head in a nod.

With that, Viktor leapt into the air, changing in mid-leap. Lazar and Valko flew up to his sides, and Hermione brought up the rear. Severus, watching them momentarily as they fell into accustomed formation, took to the skies, his silent wing beats carrying him aloft to join in on the hunt.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

While Severus had not stayed for the actual dinner, he had participated in the flushing of the hunt. This time, Hermione had been the tester of the hunt, driving one deer after another in rapid succession. Ignoring the healthy and the young, she snapped at the older, and tested for weakness. When the snapping of her beak was not enough inspiration, her piercing eagle screams were definitely more than enough to send the herd scattering in multiple directions.

After multiple feints and drives forward, Hermione found the one that stumbled perhaps too often, or whose breath was too strained. She snapped her beak at the older deer’s rear legs, blooding it and driving it out into their favoured clearing where wings were less likely to slam into foliage.

As the buck stumbled out into the clearing in panic, Viktor descended upon the deer with a roar, his teeth clamped on the back of the deer’s neck as his rear talons sank in deep to anchor him and his dark forelegs wrapped around its neck and claws in as his strangle hold and massive weight dragged the deer down upon itself.

In a few minutes, the deer had given up its struggle. Viktor raked his rear talons down the deer’s soft belly hide, and stuck his muzzle into the opening as he sought what he was looking for. His teeth clamped around the heart and tugged it free. With a soft growl, he trotted over to where Severus had landed to watch the aftermath of the chase. Placing the heart down in front of the eagle owl, he licked his jowls and waited.

The eagle owl was perfectly still for a minute, then, landed on top of it, tearing into it with his beak to feast first.

Viktor backed away, returned to the carcass, and searched the inner cavity again, this time pulling out the other treasured pieces he was seeking. He snapped a large chunk off the liver and passed it to Lazar, another to Valko, and another to Hermione.

Hermione used her sharp beak to slice the piece she was given in half, and she extended to Viktor with a chirp.

The simurgh carefully took the offering, his teeth closing upon the food. He made it disappear quickly. They dug through the inner organs until all of the treasured edibles were devoured, sharing it between them, leaving the rest of the carcass to be carried off to Petya so he could attempt not burning it.

As Severus continued to work on the the large heart offering, Hermione had finished and trotted over to begin preening her master with her beak, setting his dishevelled feathers in order. He hooted lowly, tolerating her ministrations as he fed.

At last, when the it seemed he had reached maximum capacity, Severus took the last of the heart in his beak and silently held it out to Hermione.

Hermione bowed down on her forelegs, turned her beak to the side, and very gently took the remains of his meal from his beak and made it disappear.

After the group of them had groomed, preened, and otherwise made themselves presentable, Lazar and Valko dressed the deer. Viktor returned to human form, and drew a cape from his inner pocket, tapping it with his wand to make it larger. He tied the cape across his shoulders and nodded to his brothers, who heaved it up over his shoulders. Viktor grabbed the legs in both hands and shifted his balance and took off in the direction of the camp he know Petya would be waiting for his second cooking attempt.

“As sister, you welcome to our celebration,” Lazar rumbled.

“What is the celebration?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Viktor figured out second clue,” Valko replied. “Is worth celebrating.”

“Master also welcome,” Lazar said, “but, also know you do not wish to expose self. Understand.”

Severus nodded silently to Lazar.

“Ve take good care of sister,” Valko said with a bow. “Bring home before curfew.”

Severus smirked. “See that you do,” he said lowly and leapt into the air, allowing the wind to carry him back towards Hogwarts.

Lazar and Valko put their arms around Hermione and guided her to where Viktor and Petya would be preparing the deer for the feast. Hermione wrapped her arms around her brothers’ waists as they walked, allowing the earlier memories of Ron to fade away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“He did what?” Draco hissed, his fists clenching to the point where his knuckles were white. “I’m going to hex him into Oblivion!”

“It’s not worth it, Draco,” Hermione said, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to get in trouble over him on top of everything else.”

Draco let his breath out slowly. “He needs a good kick to his nethers, Ari,” he sighed.

“While I do agree,” Hermione said with a sad smile. “I don’t imagine you beating the crap out of him is going help keep our relationship under the radar.”

Draco snorted. “Why do you have to be so rational?”

Hermione pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Severus, who was furiously grading parchments.

Draco slumped. “Point made.”

Vik the Hippogriff chirped happily at Draco and head bumped into his chin.

“So, he fetched the Durmstrang without you even asking him to?” Draco asked, rubbing Vik under the chin.

“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly thinking very clearly,” Hermione admitted. “I let Ron back me up into a tree.”

“That’s not like you,” Draco said with concern.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen again, to be honest,” Hermione said with a frown.

Draco lifted a very Slytherin brow of curiosity.

“I’m not making excuses for him anymore,” Hermione said. “Today… broke something. If Lazar and Valko hadn’t show up, I would have torn him to pieces. I may have felt horrible afterword, but I would have done it all the same.”

Draco nodded. “Count on Weasel to provoke one of the few people who could literally tear him to pieces when threatened.”

Hermione smirked with a small laugh. “Not very bright, is he? Yet he’s so good at chess. How is it that someone who can do so well at that… fail so horribly at reading people.”

“Chess is strategy without faces,” Draco replied. “It is war without real consequence and without real, dying bodies. You can win, fail, redo without ever having to live with the fact you just killed someone or broken their trust forever.”

Hermione tilted her head. “When did you get so philosophical, Draco?”

“I’ve been hanging around you two for too long,” Draco smirked. You’re corrupting my delicate balance of ignorance and bliss.”

“Pffft,” Hermione said, waving her hand much like her Master was prone to do. “You forgot the effectiveness of the use of pulverising the leaves instead of just chopping them.” She pointed to Draco’s essay and drawing.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” Draco sputtered.

“Language, Draco,” Snape replied from his desk.

Draco slumped. “Seriously. How am I supposed to know that the effectiveness of pulverising leaves in this potion when the last two potions we did were finely chopped.”

Hermione smirked.

“Oh no you don’t,” Draco accused. “You’re not going to pull top secret potion secrets that only a Master or Apprentice would know and expect me to know it too!”

Hermione gave him a pouting face. “Just because you don’t know it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Bah, you and your potions subtleties,” Draco said. “You and me on a broom, and I’ll fly circles around you both.”

“We all have our talents,” Severus commented dryly from his desk.

“Ugh,” Hermione said with a yawn. “I need to sneak back into the dorm and sleep.” Vik yawns beakily from her shoulder as if to punctuate her statement.

“Hrmph,” Draco muttered. “If you were Slytherin, you could just walk across the hall.”

“If I were Slytherin, I wouldn’t have to worry about Ginny freaking out if I wasn’t in bed,” Hermione laughed.

“Psh,” Draco said. “Details.”

Hermione gathered her books and grinned.

“Goodnight, Draco,” Hermione said, pulling Draco into a hug. She stood and shuffled over to Severus and pressed her face to his shoulder and neck.

Severus ruffled her hair with his free hand. “Goodnight. Be sure to take some healing paste with you before you go.”

“Healing paste?” Hermione questioned as she reached over to the shelf and plucked a tin of healing paste off it.

“Someone tripped my wards in my storeroom,” Severus said without looking up from his writing. “I’m sure your friends will have an interesting array of animated jar bites.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “You charmed the jars to bite people?”

“Who would do such a thing?”

Hermione disillusioned herself and exited the room, stifling her laughter.

:Goodnight, my Master,: she laughed into his head.

:Dream well, my Apprentice,: Severus purred into her mind.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Harry, what happened to you?” Hermione asked wide-eyed as she came into the Gryffindor Common Room. “Merlin, Neville… Ron… did you fall into a tentacula plant?”

Her House-mates looked at her guiltily. They were covered in what looked like hundreds of bites.

“What the…” Hermione said as she grabbed a towel from the pile in front of them and blotted Harry’s forehead, which was bleeding.

Neville moaned. “We just wanted to get gillyweed from Snape’s storeroom for Harry’s trial.”

Neville was bleeding from countless little bites all over his hands and arms and his face. It looked like he had been attacked by a rampaging octopus.

Ron looked like he’d been rolling around in broken glass. There was no place on his face or his arms that wasn’t covered in bite marks.

“Did you… at least get the gillyweed?” Hermione dared to ask.

“Pft,” Ron scoffed. “Of course not. We were so busy beating off the jars, we couldn’t even see the labels.”

“Wait… the actual jars attacked you?” Hermione tried not to laugh, but it wasn’t quite working.

All three boys looked utterly embarrassed.

Hermione pulled the jar of healing paste out from her robe and started smearing it over her friends.

Neville sighed. “Why is it you are always putting us back together, Hermione?”

“Why is it I always find you guys sitting in the Common Room covered in random wounds or plant material… or Lavender’s perfume.”

“Hey,” Harry moaned. “The perfume was an accident.”

“Assuredly,” Hermione said dryly, shaking her head in a round about fashion.

She finished smearing the paste over Harry and Neville, but when she got to Ron, he snatched the tin from her hands.

“I’ll get it,” he huffed.

Hermione closed her eyes and just let it go.

“Harry,” she said softly. “Have you thought about just… asking for the gillyweed?”

“Are you completely mental?” Neville hissed. “Who the hell is going to ask Snape for anything, even if he wasn’t just going to outright hex us to death just because we breathed on him?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I meant… have you tried getting a request from Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, or Professor Dumbledore for permission and have them escort you to Professor Snape.”

Harry and Neville looked at the carpet. “Oh.”

Hermione stood up. “I’m going to bed. Let me know how it goes in the morning.”

“Wait… Hermione!” Harry said frantically.

Hermione turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t you ask Professor McGonagall to see what she says?”

Hermione gave him a very Slytherin poker-faced look. “Harry. I’m not the Tri-Wizard Champion. Why would any of them give me potion ingredients out of Professor Snape’s storage room?” She turned and fled up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories.

Harry and Neville exchanged pained looks.

“I’m going to die,” moaned Harry.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Did you… have a disagreement with a rose bush, Mr. Potter?” Snape droned lowly as he approached with Professor McGonagall. “I fear I’m out of healing paste. You will have to goto the infirmary.”

Harry fidgeted with discomfort. “No, Sir, I fear was more clumsy than usual.”

“To what… do I owe the pleasure of your… clumsiness?” Severus said, his dark eyes sweeping over Harry in a way that caused his skin to break out in goosebumps.

“Sir, I would like request a sample of gillyweed for use during the second trial,” Harry said. “I was hoping you might have some.”

Severus stared right into Harry’s eyes. “As much as I would… love… to help you, Mr. Potter. It appears that someone broke into my private stores and smashed the place up. I might be cleaning and sorting it for… weeks… before I can be sure I even have a sample in which to give you.”

“Surely there must something Mr. Potter can do to you help you sort through the jars, Severus,” McGonagall said. “This is for the Tournament, not some random student project.”

“Very well, Minerva,” Snape droned. “I hope you have your dragon-hide gloves, Mr. Potter. There seems to be a rather obscene amount of broken glass in my storeroom.”

Harry blushed as he averted his eyes. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Follow me, then,” Severus said with a sniff, leading the way to his private storeroom.

Minerva smirked and turned to continue her walk back up to the Gryffindor Tower. With three of her House covered in strangely similar skin cuts with no desire to goto the Hospital Wing, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Harry’s humbling himself in front of Severus Snape was not the “first” attempt at obtaining gillyweed from a certain Potion Master.

Chuckling, she changed into a silver tabby and padded up the staircase and up out of the dungeons, her tail curled up over her back like a flag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone catch my tip hats to some Neville-induced plot lines in other fan-fics? Yeah. I couldn’t help it.


	27. Binding the Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco works on his Animagus meditations.  
> Professor Flitwick teaches his class banishing charms.  
> Hermione muses with Severus upon the changes between herself and Ron.  
> Ginny has a problem.  
> Dumbledore needs to deal with Winky, the unbound house-elf.

**Chapter 27: Binding the Unbound**

“Stop tinking of girls, Nathan,” Viktor said, slapping his fellow on the chest. “You have attention span of goldfish. Tink of meditation.”

“Girls are everywhere here!” Nathan moaned. “How can I forget what is right in front of me?”

“Learn from Draco,” Lazar grunted, slapping Nathan upside the head with his hand. “He sitting and meditating, not tinking about girls.”

Draco smirked as he sat in the clearing with the Durmstrang students. He had become used to the heavily accented English that the Bulgarians had, so hearing Nathan’s smooth English complaints amused him. His father had once contemplated sending him to Durmstrang, hoping that he would pick up on the proper attitude towards pure-bloods and martial spell-work that he wanted to instill in his son. Oh, if his father even knew what the Sons of Durmstrang really thought of Muggle-born witches and wizards… he would probably have a nervous breakdown.

“It’s not fair,” Nathan complained.

“Life not fair,” Valko said, slamming his fist down on top of Nathan’s head. “Now meditate instead of complain.”

Nathan sighed deeply, attempting to go back to his study meditation.

Draco stifled a chuckle as he cleared his mind and went back to his animagus meditations under the cover of simple study meditations with Nathan. It was going to be a long afternoon.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Aaaaiiiieeee!”Professor Flitwick cried as Neville’s banishing charm sent him flying across the classroom instead of the carefully planned cushions that were meant to be his student’s targets.

Neville turned bright scarlet and stood up rush over to his professor’s aid only to get pummelled by about 15 flying cushions that were flying in his direction.

Neville collapsed on the ground with an oof, and the remaining flying cushions proceeded to smack into Ronald Weasley, who was trying to have a conversation with Harry at the back of the room.

It was entirely accidental, but certain members of the class seemed to think it was completely appropriate.

Hermione’s pile of cushions, however were zinging across the room, hitting the wall, and falling directly into a collection box on the far side of the room, must to Harry’s dismay, as only a few of his managed to get to the box. One of his cushions hit Professor Flitwick as he made his way back to the front of the class. One slammed into Draco Malfoy, who sent him a piercing glare. One went backwards and slammed into Hermione, who immediately sent the cushion slamming back into his face with a loud WHAP.

Hermione grinned at him as he pulled the cushion off his face, and he grinned back at her. She leaned down to pick up something on the floor just as a cushion went zinging over the place she had been sitting and slapped Neville upside the face just after he managed to pull himself off the floor from the first barrage.

Neville tried to banish the cushion back where it came, and ended up sending and exasperated Flitwick sailing in another direction, thankfully landing in the pile of cushions gathered at the front of the room.

Neville hung his head and sank over his desk in shame, smacking his forehead against the desk surface a few times in self punishment.

Hermione sent one of Ron’s cushions sailing over towards Draco, who ducked just in time to have it slam Crabbe in the face.

Crabbe, blaming Goyle, sent one of his cushions flying, but Goyle dodged in time for the cushion to smack Ron upside the head.

Ron proceeded to lose his cool all over again, sending all of his remaining cushions over to slam into Goyle in the face.

The war was on, and cushions began to fly in all direction.

Hermione and Draco kept their heads down, snickering as cushions flew over their heads.

By the time class was done, no one knew who had started it, but even Flitwick was snickering from in front of the room, even as his body was slightly covered in cushion down.

“Your fault,” Draco signed to her from across the classroom.

“Who me?” Hermione signed back, grinning from ear to ear as she gathered her books to leave the class with the rest of the students.

Suddenly a cushion zoomed across the room and hit Ron on the back of the head, causing him to stumble forward on his way out the door.

Hermione gave Draco a side-long accusatory glance.

“Okay, that was me,” Draco signed, giving her a halo look.

Hermione schooled her face into one of concern and sympathy. “You okay, Ron?” she asked innocently.

Ron stormed down the hallway muttering to himself.

Harry gave Hermione a look.

Hermione shrugged at him.

Harry put his arm around her shoulder and pushed her along the hall, snickering.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione stood on the grassy knoll overlooking Black Lake, watching the Durmstrang ship rock and and forth in the currents. The sun was setting as the clouds were gathering. Deep red and oranges were painted across the sky, mixed in with the dark bands of storm clouds.

“Carry my soul into the night,” Hermione sang softly, remembering the song that had floated down the halls during one of Flitwick’s choir practises. She had rarely heard it since that one particular night, but the song had stuck with her in a way other songs did not. It carried emotion and an almost plaintive mourning that touched her.

“May the stars light my way,” she sang, casting her eyes up into the darkening sky.

“I glory in the sight,” she sang, as if singing to the clouds above her.

“As darkness takes the day,” She sang wistfully, watching the bright colours of the sky fading as the sun sank even lower under the horizon, taking the light with it.

“Cantate vitae canticum,” Severus sang lowly from behind her, his voice rumbling in the evening air.

“Sing a song, a song of life,” Hermione turned, echoing her Master’s words.

“Sine dolore actae,” he replied to her.

“Lived without regret,” she answered.

“Dicite eis quos amabam,” he rumbled.

“Tell the ones, the ones I loved,” Hermione sang mournfully, her voice pitched high and ethereal.

“Me nunquam obliturum,” Severus answered her, his dark eyes meeting hers.

“I never will forget,” Hermione sang, the words filling her chest with the heaviness of so many memories she remembered but could not share.

“Never will forget,” they sang together, Hermione’s high notes mingled with the low rumble of her Master’s voice.

Hermione closed her eyes as the sound of Severus’s soft voice sang with hers, feeling something pass between them as they shared that moment. It was yet another secret she would never tell unless he wished it to be told. He could and did sing. And much like the words he said at any other time, he delivered his notes flawlessly. However, unlike his speaking voice, his singing voice contained a vibration of emotion his eyes and face could not or would not express. It was a gift, she knew, that he would share in her song, just as his presence was to her every day. She could not imagine her life without it.

As Severus’ hand gently pressed against her hair as she stepped into his protective embrace, she knew he felt the same.

Troubled by Ron’s almost ominous statement that things would return to normal once the visiting schools left, she found herself mourning their departure before they were even close to leaving.

“Do not let Weasley’s ignorant words trouble you,” Severus rumbled to her. “While things will, undoubtedly, return to ‘normal’ as he said… they will not be his vision of it.”

“The three of us were inseparable once,” Hermione said sadly. “That is how I remember him. Goofy. Selfless. Sometimes utterly stupid, but capable of more. I used to think that… Harry and Ron were the only friends I’d ever have.”

“I would hope that you do not think this anymore,” Severus said softly.

Hermione smiled sadly. “I know better now.”

“Good,” he replied, absently massaging her hair with his fingers in a way that calmed her.

“I don’t want to be the type of person who cannot forgive, Master,” Hermione explained. “I don’t want it to be my fault that I never gave him a chance to be sorry.”

“Hermione,” Severus said, startling her with the use of her given name. “We will remember our significant friends forever. But you… will never be guilty of not giving someone the chance to redeem themselves. Anyone who thinks otherwise, is truly an idiot.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve redeemed anyone, Master,” Hermione confessed.

“Of course you have, you stupid girl,” Severus rumbled softly.

“Who?” Hermione asked, startled.

Severus touched the top of her head. “Me.”

Hermione pulled back and stared Severus in the eyes, getting lost in his dark gaze as the warmth of his presence flowed into her. She smiled at him then lay her head against his sternum, tucking her head under his chin. “Your will is mine,” she whispered formally, inhaling deeply.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Harry, did you get the gillyweed?” Ginny asked as they sat down in the courtyard.

“Finally,” Harry said somewhat wearily. “It took me three days to sort through all the broken and scattered jars to find the one that had the gillyweed in it.”

“But, he did give it to you,” Ginny insisted.

“He kind of had to,” Harry said. “I had McGonagall with me when I went to ‘ask’ him.”

“I guess,” Ginny said. “He could have lied though. It’s not like anyone really knows what all is in that storeroom but him.”

Hermione shook her head, continuing to scribble her essay for her next potions class. Severus had assigned three whole parchments on the benefits and properties of dragon blood after Seamus had hit the phial of it off Snape’s desk and shattered the valuable liquid onto the floor.

Vik sat on the corner of her parchment, holding it down and chirping sweetly every so often in commentary.

“I really could use some chocolate right now,” Ginny confessed. “I have a crazy hard exam in transfiguration tomorrow.” Ginny perked. “I know where Ron hides his chocolate frogs!” She leapt up and dashed up the boy’s stairwell.

“Never stand in the way of Ginny and her chocolate,” Harry said as he rubbed the back of his own head with his hand.

Hermione chuckled, rolling up her parchments. “That would be the truth,” she agreed, bringing out her wand to put wax on the binding of the parchment. She pressed her seal into the warm wax as a flash of magic bound the parchments together.

“You’re always five steps ahead of us, Hermione,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “That’s the essay Snape assigned us today, isn’t it?”

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Hermione corrected. “And yes, it’s the essay on dragon’s blood.”

“That jerk of a brother has been hiding truffles from me!” Ginny complained as she bounced down the stairwell. “He knows I adore truffles.” She was chewing on one even before she reached the landing. She placed one in front of Hermione and Harry with a smirk on her face.

Vik pranced over to the truffles and seemed intent on inspecting them. His wings fluttered as he stuck his beak over them.

Harry chuckled as he tried to shoo the hippogriff off his truffle. “ ‘Ere now, you,” he shooed. “That’s my stolen truffle.”

“Shared!” Ginny giggle, having popped another into her mouth.

Hermione lifted her head as she heard a sharp chirp and Harry’s exclamation.

“Ow!” Harry said as he snatched back his hand. “What’s gotten into you?”

Vik was standing over the chocolate, wings spread, and beak poised to peck.

Harry tried to snatch the other chocolate truffle near Hermione since his was being guarded, only to have Vik chirp loudly and snap at Harry’s fingers, planting his four legs around the candy and glare at him.

“Bloody hell,” Harry said, putting his finger to his mouth. “He’s never bitten me before.”

Hermione tucked her scroll into her book bag and eyed Vik with some concern. The little hippogriff had stunning manners, usually, and also had affection for Harry. Taking a bite out of Harry’s finger was hardly normal.

She scooped up Vik into her hands, and he chirped appealingly at her. “What’s gotten into you, hrm?” she asked the little hippogriff.

Harry made to grab for the truffle once more, but Vik was still on guard, leaping from Hermione’s hands and landing with a chorus of rapid chirping and wing beats. Vik pecked furiously at Harry’s fingers, keeping him from his goal.

“What’s that stupid thing going on about?” Ginny spouted caustically, causing Harry and Hermione to stare at Ginny like she’d grown a second head.

“Erm… Ginny,” Harry began. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Just fine,” Ginny answered. “Just annoyed watching you two ninnies unable to get chocolate out from under a pint sized construct you could just slap away.”

Hermione, now convinced that Vik was trying to send them a message, pulled Vik into her lap and picked up Harry’s truffle. Harry looked at her questioningly and she raised the chocolate to her face. Vik chirped and squirmed in her lap, looking desperate to fly up and keep her from doing whatever she was going to do.

“Easy,” she patted Vik. “I’m not going to eat it.” She sniffed the candy suspiciously. It had a strong chocolate odour, and the strong scent of butter, cream, and cocoa, but underneath it was something distinctly not the kind of odour that belonged in candy. She resisted the temptation to taste the candy for the underlying bitterness she knew would be there—bitterness that would be easily overlooked when buried in sugary confections.

Hermione grabbed for a piece of parchment and put the truffles on it, rolling them up to take. “Harry, go up to the dorm and get the box these came from. Take them to Professor Lupin. Tell him to scan them. Hurry!”

Harry scrambled off the floor and fled up the stairs.

“Ginny, we’re going on a trip!” she said with a sugary sweet tone, tucking the sample truffles into her robe.

“Maybe, I don’t want to go with you anywhere,” Ginny snapped.

Hermione’s face darkened as every emotion she had fled from her expression. “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” she said lowly, pulling out her wand. “Petrificus totalus,” she hissed, sending Ginny to the ground with a thud. “Sorry, Ginny, you’ll thank me for this later.”

“Mobilicorpus,” Hermione said, pointing her wand at Ginny, levitating her and rushed out the Common Room, her hand grasping Ginny’s robe as she floated, pulling her along towards the hospital wing.

:Master,: she sent her call out as she dragged Ginny around by her robe.

:Yes?:

:Ginny ate some candy with at least some malevolent mixture in it. I’m not sure if there is anything else,” she said in a rush, pulling Ginny around the corner and pulling her again as she hurried to the hospital wing. :I have samples. Told Harry to take the rest to Remus to inspect.:

:Bring the samples to me after you drop of Ms. Weasley,: he replied. :I will start the cauldrons.:

:Yes, Master,” Hermione replied immediately, feeling him withdraw from the conversation as she continued to pull Ginny along.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Remus placed his hand on Hermione’s shoulder as she lay sprawled over Ginny’s unconscious body in the hospital wing. “How is she doing?”

“Sleeping it off,” Hermione answered with a tired smile. “No permanent harm done.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lupin replied, sitting down beside her. “Alas, I have bad news for you, or perhaps good news.”

Hermione looked at him with a tired expression.

“Severus and I put Ron through a hundred or so scans while he was sitting in study hall,” he explained. “He’s not under the influence of any Dark Magic or potion.”

Hermione slumped. “I’m not sure it makes me feel better that he’s really just a git.”

“Any idea where he might have gotten those candies?” Remus asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Unless he’s hiding potion adeptness I don’t know about, I don’t think he’s capable of brewing malevolent mixture and dosing it subtly enough to be put in candy to create a personality change without outright killing the person. He’d need a full lab to make it, anyway, and I guarantee you he hasn’t broken any of the wards we placed on the classroom laboratories.”

Remus gave her a look. “You sound more and more like Severus every day.”

Hermione smiled weakly.

“Hermione?”

“Hrm?”

“Is it possible,” Remus began. “That someone wanted Ron to eat them?”

“So he can become even more an unreasonably horrible git?” Hermione asked.

Remus tapped his finger to his mouth. “Maybe whoever dosed it thought it would reverse his attitude instead.”

“Malevolent mixture is not called malevolent for creative license,” Hermione said, exhaling deeply.

“You and Severus would know that assuredly,” Remus said. “But how many of your peers would know different if they were to say… guess on how it works? Perhaps get a bottle of it from a shadier establishment that doesn’t care so much about who they sell to?”

Hermione closed her eyes. “How does that Muggle saying go?” she pondered. “The ‘road to hell is paved in good intentions.’”

Suddenly, Vik perked up on Ginny’s bedsheets, prancing up to her head and bumping into her jaw and chirping rapidly.

Appreciating the signal that her friend was waking up, Hermione inclined her head towards Ginny to signal Remus. He nodded and bowed out of the room, fleeing the Hospital Wing.

“Eugh,” Ginny groaned. “Where am I? Why do I have such a horrible headache?”

Hermione touched her lips with her fingers. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

“Is there ever a short version?” Ginny moaned.

“Rarely,” Hermione answered.

Ginny inhaled. “All right. Start telling,” she sighed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“There are seven flasks here, Uncle” Draco said as he counted the labelled flasks on the shelf. He reached his arm in on the top shelf and patted around. “I don’t see any others. Draco hung off the wooden ladder in Severus’ storage room.

“This room is a mess,” Hermione bemoaned. “I just finished sorting through it all last month.”

“You can thank you ‘friends’ for that service,” Severus sighed a reply. “My list says I had eight flasks of malevolent mixture stored here. It’s not a common thing to have out in the laboratories, so I wouldn’t have any there. It does have the side use as slug repellent, but I have not had to mix up a batch of that for Hagrid in months.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “How could anyone break into your storage room without you knowing anymore?”

“Short of the trespassing of a certain know-it-all?” Severus asked, eyebrow raised.

“I’ll have you know, I have not broken into your storage room since second year, Master,” Hermione huffed. “The details of which you are intimately familiar.”

Severus smirked. “In all seriousness, no, it should not be possible. Not after I sealed it off from students after your antics second year, and after I warded it off non-students after Mr. Crouch’s pilfering polyjuice ingredients.”

Hermione placed her head over her knees as she sat on the floor of the storage room. “What could get past wards you set both for students and non-students…”

“Wait, Uncle,” Draco piped up. “You said non-students. Did you set them for people or anything?”

Severus eyed Draco. “People, Draco. Do you have any idea how many ghosts like to flutter through my storage closet and set off wards?”

Hermione perked up. “Draco, do you mean?”

Draco clambered down the ladder and gestured with his hands as he spoke. “What about house elves, Uncle?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “House elves are exceedingly tricky to ward against. They tend to defy most jinxes and wards, as evidenced by their ability to apparate around Hogwarts freely.”

“So it is possible,” Draco asked. “That if one wanted to, they could just apparate into here and take what they wanted.”

Severus nodded.

“What would a house elf have to gain by tampering with food?” Hermione asked.

“I wouldn’t think of it like that, Hermione,” Draco said. “A house elf normally will do anything for the family they are bound to. They are… fanatical almost. To be set “free” is the worst insult or shame to a house elf there is. If one were to say… be let go for whatever reason, it would make them willing to do almost anything to get back in their family’s good favour.”

“But Dobby,” Hermione said with a tilt of her head.

“Is not right in the head,” Draco said. “Even for a house elf.”

“And there is at least one one house elf in Hogwarts that was a “rescue” case after being dismissed from her family quite recently,” Severus said lowly.

“Winky,” Hermione replied. “The drunken elf Barty Crouch, Jr. kicked into the wall… as she begged him to go back home with her.”

“One thing I’ll need to confirm from you before I go to Albus,” Severus said. “I’ll need to to confirm the scent in my storeroom. Then I can go get Remus to sniff it out and do a patrol or two with me.”

Hermione looked at the cramped storeroom. “Erm…”

Severus dragged Draco out by the collar and stepped out himself.

Hermione went down on all fours, feeling ever so like a sardine or a piece of mackerel in a Muggle tin of fish. She grunted, pinning her wings to her side carefully as to not cause a jar avalanche in the storeroom yet again. She grunted as Severus and Draco stood by the door, half closing the door on her rear end and then standing in front of it to hide her massive bulk crammed into a storage area that was not gryphon friendly. She tried to back up a little to untangle her face from the ladder, and her tail whooshed out the door, slapping Draco in the face.

“Ari,” Draco hissed, grabbing her tail and shoving it back into the storeroom.

Hermione chirped a soft apology, making a mental note to plead with Severus to transfigure more space in his storeroom for moments like this.

She sniffed the air in the storeroom, nostrils flaring as her beak parted slightly. She filtered out scent after scent as she attempted to wedge her eagle head closer to where Draco had found the missing flasks.

Then, like a breeze carrying scents from further up the mountain, she caught the distinctive “other” scent that was not Severus, herself, Harry, Neville, Ron, or Draco. She checked off scents she knew well and isolated the one she knew only in passing. It was the scent of the drunken house elf that had she had saved in the Great Hall. The tang of butterbeer was laced with the scent.

:Confirmed, my Master,: she said immediately the moment she recognised it.

Hermione slumped as she shifted back, clinging to the poor abused wooden ladder that had just managed to support a few hundred kilos of over-sized gryphon.

She clambered down off the ladder and sighed.

Draco came back in as Severus blocked the door with his body. “I will fetch Remus and take care of the rest. You two, go make yourselves look… like whatever students look like when they aren’t being studious.”

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances at the awkward order.

“Yes, Master.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Go. I will inform you later, when I know more.”

Hermione disillusioned herself and fled the storage room, going down the hall one direction as Draco went the other. Severus pulled himself together, took a deep breath, closed the door to his storage room, and stormed down towards Lupin’s quarters with his dark robe fluttering behind him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, and Headmaster of Hogwarts was convinced he was going insane.

If the discovery of Barty Crouch, Junior masquerading as his old friend Alastor Moody wasn’t stressful enough, having two major Wizarding schools taking up residence in Hogwarts, major magic duels taking place in his Great Hall, students taking up wands to defend their frightened peers, a known ex-Death Eater walking the halls of the school, and Harry Potter being the forth wizard in the supposedly Tri-Wizard gone Quad-Wizard Tournament was enough to make his mind turn tail and flee into the night and leave his body to fend for itself.

Before him, was the bound house elf known as Winky, trapped in an elaborate circle he had meticulously drawn specifically to keep the house elf’s magic from whisking her away to places unknown.

She’d begged and pleaded to be let go, not because she was innocent, but because she had to finish her task in order to gain her master’s favour once more. She’s spilt her maniacal plan in front of the entire room of professors and a handful of Aurors he had summoned specifically to witness the interrogation.

What was her task?

The task was even more unbelievable. Do everything in her power to ensure that Harry Potter was separated from his friends when the last trial came and insure he won the Tournament. She knew the magic to create a port-key thanks to Barty Junior, and she knew where she had to port Harry Potter. Her Master’s allies would do the rest. Then, she could be with her Master again. She would have a home again.

When asked which of Harry’s friends she had manipulated, she had said she had intended to strike Hermione Granger down with insecurities and make her unable to help Harry, but then Hermione had saved her life, and she was honour bound to leave her be, but the Weasley boy was already unstable. It was easy to mislead him and fan his petty jealousies to make him even more useless to Harry. She hadn’t even had to use a spell on him to get him riled up about all the wrong things. She’d left the tainted chocolates in the secret stash Ron had so Ginny would find it, but Ginny hadn’t found it until just the other night, when she had been surrounded by friends that would connect her change in behaviour to the candy, ruining the plan.

Instead of remorse, the house elf had shown an even more desperate desire to be allowed to finish her task, throwing herself at the binding circle in her panic to do as her last master had commanded.

Albus rubbed the area between his eyes even as he pulled the memories of everything as it had happened and cast it into his pensieve. The Aurors would return to collect the house-elf and put her into containment. Unbound and without a master, there was nothing keeping Winky from doing exactly what her last Master told her to do. But in order to get Winky bound to someone to enforce their will upon her, she would have to have a modicum of respect to form the bond… and her mind was perhaps too far gone for such things. As it was, she didn’t even recognise Albus as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and every other house-elf of Hogwarts knew that at the very least.

A knock at the door reminded him of why he was just waiting around staring into space. “Come in, Miss Granger.”

The bushy haired Gryffindor looked nervous, and he didn’t blame her. Coming to the Headmaster’s summons rarely meant relaxing tea time and avid conversation. Beside her was Severus, looking as annoyed as could be expected for having to escort someone not of his house to the Headmaster’s office.

“Did Severus explain to you what I wanted you to try?” Albus asked her.

Hermione nodded. Her eyes were veiled and unreadable. Had the situation been less dire, he would have found that curious. Few had the ability to keep him from their thoughts when stressed. It was something of a skill of pride he had in himself.

“Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said softly. “If there was any other way to insure to insure her loyalty other than imprisonment…”

Hermione seemed to ponder her answer carefully, but nodded to him. “I understand, Headmaster.”

“You can trust Severus to guide you through this,” Albus said in an attempt to reassure her. “Please believe me.”

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded to him again. “Thank you, Professor.”

Both Hermione and Severus sat down around the binding circle. Severus extended his pale hands to her. “Take my hands, Ms. Granger, put your wand in your right hand.”

“Yes, Professor,” she answered, placing her hands in his, linking themselves over the binding circle, and their wands pointed upward on opposite sides.

“Let us begin,” Severus said coldly. “Look into my eyes, Ms. Granger. Do not… look away.”

There was a flash of magic as the circle flared, and the two of them were bound inside a spell of communication, locking out any who were not involved within the binding circle, leaving Albus deaf to what was going on both audibly and magically.

Albus, however, was not worried. He could always trust Severus to do what was needed to be done, no matter how difficult. He would even tolerate working with the young Gryffindor witch, if he had to.

As he watched, Winky stopped slamming herself against the invisible boundaries of the binding circle, her eyes became less panicked, and her ears began to relax. The house elf sat, eyes darting back and forth, wildly at first, then slowed. She stared out of the circle, but her eyes were unfocused.

They sat, staring at each other for over and hour, no vocal words said between them. Their hands remained linked, their eyes locked, and their postures stiff.

And just when Albus believed that Winky would rather be condemned rather than accept any other bond other than that of the Crouch family, Winky bowed her head and said, “I’s serves you and your family, my Mistress, this I swears. Yous save my life. Cannot be… any other ways.”

Hermione and Severus straightened and released each others hands. “Winky, you will not harm Harry Potter, or attempt to mislead him or manipulate his actions. Nor will you aid his enemies in his downfall.”

“Yes, Mistress Hermione of Noble House of Gryffindor,” Winky said submissively, all of the earlier tension in her body was gone.

“You will listen to the commands of Severus Snape as if they are mine unless they contradict one of mine,” Hermione said coolly, her expression was impassive.

“Yes, Mistress,” the house elf bowed.

Hermione’s eyes flicked to Snapes.

He nodded to her slowly.

They both reached out at the same time and swiped their hands through the binding that kept Winky from escaping.

Winky stood without fleeing, all the stress to compulsively carry out her previous Master’s orders no longer goaded her on.

Albus let out his breath he had been holding for some time.

Severus stood, extending his hand to Hermione so she could pull herself up, and much to Albus’ surprise, she took it, allowing him to touch her. Something must have happened while they had communicated with Winky that had forged some sort of respect for each other. Perhaps that would mean less detentions for the poor girl.

Hermione took in a deep breath. “Is there anything else you require, Professor Dumbledore?”

“No, no,” Albus said at last. “Thank you for your services today. If you could have Winky stay here for the Aurors to confirm she is no longer a danger?”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione said with a nod. “Winky, please stay with Professor Dumbledore until he says it is safe for you to return to your duties in Hogwarts.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Winky said with a bow, the previous attitude, conflict, and stress had melted away now that a formal bond had been created with her once more.

“I will return to my dormitory, if it is okay with you, Headmaster,” Hermione said.

“Yes, Ms. Granger,” Albus said kindly. “That will be all. Thank you.”

Hermione nodded. “Goodnight, Professors,” she said. She flicked her eyes to look at Winky and then up to the Potion Master. Finally, she cast her gaze upon Albus, inclined her head, and bowed out of the office with a sweep of movement that seemed rooted in practice.

“Well, Severus,” Albus said. “Since Ms. Granger has so kindly given you the keys, so to speak, shall we continue with some questioning we started earlier?”

“As you wish, Headmaster,” Severus said unemotionally, moving to sit upon one of Albus’ many office chairs.

“Severus, I hope that you realise that Ms. Granger could be a great asset to us in the future,” Albus suggested.

“You wish me to throw a forth year student at the Dark Lord, Albus?” Severus asked flatly.

“No, Severus, I do not think sending an untested forth year at Tom will be remotely helpful,” Dumbledore placated. “I’m just saying she has talents we could harness.”

“I’ll try to remember that if we have neglected house-elves to bind in the future,” Severus said dryly.

Albus sighed. “Severus, one of these days you’re going to realise there are people out there that you can rely on to help you.”

Snape’s stony glare caused Albus to give up on that front for the night.

Albus held up his hands and waved them in surrender. Time to focus on the present. He could only hope that perhaps the little trust exercise he’d just seen between Severus and Hermione would plant a seed of trust between them and help pave the way into something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, sorry. Ron is still a git. I thought about making him magically influenced to be jerk, but I realised that would downplay the entire forgiveness thing for him. If he wants (or gets) forgiveness, he’s going to have to work on it for himself, not just get a free pass for being “under the influence.” Sorry for you Ron-supporters out there. I keep trying to think of ways to make him redeem himself, and end up finding more ways for him to be a bloody git. *shameful sigh*  
> As for Albus, I’m not sure how long I want to keep him in the dark over their Apprenticeship. He’s all about for the greater good, but doesn’t really take care of his people. As Aberforth said… it’s the people closest to him that get hurt, and Severus would want to protect her from Albus as much as he’d want to protect her from anything else. He of all people, knows how Albus truly is.


	28. Bed and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny has trouble waking up her best friend.  
> Ron realises he has... issues.

Chapter 28: Bed and Breakfast

 

“Hermione.”

Hermione vaguely grunted, burying her face into her pillow.

“Hermione!”

A shake.

Another shake.

Angry chirping.

“Ow! Stop it you cranky hippogriff!”

Hermione pulled the covers over her head.

“Hermione!”

More shaking.

“Mmmfmfffffhghrrrf,” Hermione said, perfectly content to stay buried under her covers.

“Her..mio..neeeeeee!” Ginny pulled the covers off her friend, slamming her hands into the mattress to jostle Hermione awake.

Hermione mumbled loudly.

“Did you just curse at me in Bulgarian?” Ginny asked. “Merlin, Hermione, wake up! Our room has been invaded with… breakfast.”

Hermione opened one eye. “Mrrffle?”

“I swear to Merlin, Hermione,” Ginny moaned. “Pleaase wake up before I have to get a bucket of cold water!”

Hermione’s leg twitched as her mind attempted to separate some very inhuman thoughts from proper morning greetings that were acceptable in polite company.

Hermione slowly sat up in bed and glared at Ginny as her hair hung around her face like the tendrils of Medusa. “Is there a particular reason you are waking me up this early on a weekend, Ginevra Molly Weasley?”

Ginny gulped and was pretty sure that one of the strands of Hermione’s hair slithered and hissed at her. That… and half of the last sentence she had said to her was most definitely not English. “Hermione, look around the room, would you?”

“You woke me up so I could look at our room that we’ve shared for the last three years?” Hermione grunted. Vik was sitting on Hermione’s shoulder shooting dagger glares at Ginny.

“Please, just look,” Ginny said, bouncing up and down on her feet.

Hermione cast her eyes around the room before she yawned sleepily, grabbed sausage off the nearby breakfast tray, ate it, and then flopped back onto the bed, pulling her blankets back over herself.

Ginny just stared dumbfounded at her friend. “How is it that you can wake up in a split second if you think there is danger or an upcoming exam, but when I need you to wake up and see this, you are as motivated as a Kneazle in a sunbeam?”

Hermione made no reply.

Ginny slammed her palm straight into her face. “Hermione,” she groaned. “Please wake up.”

Hermione pushed herself up on one arm. “What, Ginny?” Her voice was beyond exhausted, and Ginny began to feel gnawings of guilt now that she realised how tired Hermione really was.

“Just look around the room, please?” Ginny pleaded. “Really look.”

Hermione sighed and looked around the room. There were beds, curtains, windows, cabinets, folded clothes, and trays with breakfast laid out on bedside tables. “Thanks for bringing up breakfast,” she said, flopping back on the bed.

Ginny sighed loudly, sat down on the side of her bed, and began to eat the waffles and sausage from her own plate. Might as well eat it before it got cold.

Ginny tried a few times to wake up Hermione after the initial failures, but all she managed to get out of it was an almost elbow to the face and something akin to a guttural growl, both of which Ginny preferred not to get a repeat performance.

The mysterious food, whose delicious smell had been what woke her up to begin with, tasted as wonderful as it smelled. Who or why it had come, however, remained a mystery. Realising that, especially after her experience with tampered food, that just eating the food was probably not the best of things she could have done, she sighed. Oh well. Maybe Hermione would wake up if the sound of her choking and hitting the floor happened.

Mysteriously appearing breakfast in bed aside, Ginny noticed that all of the clothes she had strewn about their dormitory room were neatly folded and cleaned. While the house elves of Hogwarts did attend to such matters, she felt like there was a little extra care on this particular morning.

Hermione woke perhaps an hour later, looking slightly more human than the hour previous. Her hair, which had not actually transfigured into writhing snakes during her sleep, was scattered in all directions.

“You look positively awful,” Ginny said frankly.

“Thanks, Gin,” Hermione yawned at her. She looked at the food next to her bed. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

“I didn’t bring it, Hermione,” Ginny explained at last. “That’s why I’ve been trying to wake you up for the past hour.”

Hermione paused in her half devouring of the nearby waffle, flicked her eyes to Ginny, and then continued to eat. “Mmf,” was all she said.

Ginny, putting two and two together and getting seventeen, had some questions building up. “Hermione,” she prodded.

“Hrm?” Hermione said, downing a glass of juice.

“Care to come down off that cloud and let us lowly mortals why you aren’t the slightest bit phased by mysteriously materialising breakfast in bed?” Ginny asked. “I mean it was wonderful. Fantastic even, but since when do we rate breakfast in bed?”

Hermione gave her a tired look, grabbing her hair brush off the nearby table and beginning to untangle her hair.

“Hermione Jean Granger,” Ginny hissed. “I’ve put up with your odd hours, ability to practically disappear out from under my nose, and the fact that you’ve had the ability to duel a dark wizard in the middle of the Great Hall, but can you please just tell me what is going on for once? I’m tired of feeling like the last one to know anything.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them, looking Ginny in the eyes. She seemed to look through her, her eyes moved upward as if in appeal to some higher power. “Winky,” she said softly, after her eyes regained focus.

Pop.

“Yes, Mistress,” a female elf dressed in a dark green and silver pillowcase with a scarlet and gold belt that looked like it had been taken from the curtains in Gryffindor Tower popped into the room.

“Winky, this is Ginny, my friend,” Hermione said. “Ginny, this is Winky.”

Ginny’s eyes grew wide. “Hermione? Did you free her? Is she like Dobby?”

Winky’s eyes grew wide and panicked. “No! Winky's not wanting clothes ever again. Never!”

“Don’t worry, Winky,” Hermione soothed. “I didn’t call you here to give you clothes.”

“You promises?” Winky asked, wringing her hands.

“I promise,” Hermione said softly.

“Promises never to give clothes?” Winky asked again. “Ever?”

“I promise, Winky,” Hermione soothed. “I will never give you clothes in an attempt to free you.”

Winky relaxed. “Thank you, Mistress,” she said with relief.

“I may make you change out of that horrible pillowcase, though,” Hermione smirked. “Is there a way to give you clothes without actually… freeing you?”

Winky blushed a little. “If Mistress wishes, can give cloth or yarns. We’s can make things with them.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Ginny looked confused. “Hermione… I don’t understand. How did you get a house elf?”

“Begging pardon, but Mistress saved Winky from self,” Winky explained.

Ginny looked at Winky. “What?”

“Old Master gave command,” Winky explained. “Would have done anything to make it happen… tried to even. Binding to me keep me protected. Mistress protects Winky from self. From beings alone.”

Ginny pondered the influx of information.

“Dobby seems so much happier as a free elf,” Ginny said.

Winky shook her head adamantly. “Being freed worse than death,” she said. “Worse than anything. Lonely. So lonely. Surrounded in people lonely.”

Hermione touched the house elf’s shoulder. “You’re safe now, Winky. You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

Winky smiled. “Cannot be lonelys anymores. Have proper Mistress.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

With that, Winky gathered all the used plates and cups and left with a pop.

Ginny shoved Hermione on the shoulder. “You never do anything small, do you?”

Hermione smiled sadly. “Can I confess that sometimes, I’d just like to have what a normal person would consider a normal day?”

Ginny grinned. “I doubt you’d be able to handle a normal day for anyone else, Hermione. You’d be bored to death.”

“Psh,” Hermione answered her.

“Do you even know what a normal day would be?” Ginny asked.

Hermione looked thoughtful.

“You don’t, do you…” Ginny realised.

Hermione gave her a shy smile.

Ginny face-palmed. “We need to get out and do something together, Hermione. Just you, me, and the boys—like we used to all the time.”

Hermione’s expression seemed sad suddenly.

“Sometimes, Hermione,” Ginny said seriously. “I think you are so caught up in whatever is going on in your head, that you forget to do some of the normal things the rest of us take for granted.”

Hermione arced a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ginny said with a nod. “You should come with us to Hogsmeade today. No excuses about you having to study, because I know for a fact you finished all your homework already.”

Hermione took in a deep breath. “There’s something I have to do before we can go.”

Ginny frowned, thinking her friend was making excuses not to go.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not trying to get out of it,” she said. “Just… give me about an hour okay?”

Ginny furrowed her brows at her friend. “Okay.”

Hermione’s corner of her mouth twitched. She stood swiftly, was dressed in a matter of seconds into her robes, and swept from the room like a sudden squall.

“How does she always do that?” Ginny asked the empty air.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ron, I know we haven’t been… seeing eye to eye the past few months, but if it’s been something I did to offend you in some way, please, let me know what it is,” Hermione said softly as she sat on the edge of the bridge leading away from Hogwarts. She had her legs swung over the railing of the bridge as she stared out over the river far below. “I can’t fix what I don’t know about. If I did something, I really want to know what it is.”

Ron stared down into the water below and kicked his feet out and back. His lips were pursed together as if to hold whatever he really wanted to say back. “Psh, as if you don’t already know.”

Hermione closed her eyes. “I really don’t, Ron. It’s like we’ve been passing in the night, never actually meeting. I can’t read your mind. “ She paused as she stumbled over that partial lie. “I really don’t know what’s going on in your head. You have to tell me.” That was the truth, at least.

“Your shacking up with Krum to get a rise out of me,” Ron said angrily. “You knew how much I idolised him, and you just had to rub it into my face that he fancied you.”

“Ron…” Hermione sighed. “I never intended to hurt you. He asked me to the Ball one afternoon while I was sitting by Black Lake. No one had asked me.”

“You’re still seeing him, though,” Ron muttered.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “I’ve gotten to know him, Ron. He’s become a friend. If you’d stick around more, I’d have introduced you.”

“You’d never understand,” Ron said bitterly, turning his head.

“Try me,” Hermione replied.

“You’re always so bloody perfect,” Ron said bitterly. “Brightest Witch of your Age. Professors love you. Your grades are always perfect. You can bloody stand up to a Dark Wizard and protect Harry Potter in front of the entire Great Hall. Where was I during all of this? Cowering behind a shield made by a perfect Cedric and two of the most notorious gits of Slytherin House.

“Harry. He’s the Chosen One. Gets his name put in the Goblet of Fire even when he didn’t do it himself. Why? Because he’s always in the thick of it. He’s always standing in the sun afterwards. Dumbledore fusses over him

“Who am I? Ronald Bloody Weasley. Nobody. Just some younger brother of my brothers everyone else knows before me. I’m always standing in the shadow of you, Harry, or my family. I’ll never be good enough, smart enough, popular enough, or talented enough to be someone people can point at and say ‘hey, there’s Ronald Weasley! He’s really good at… whatever…’ I don’t even have anything to imagine myself being good at it!” Ronald spat.

Hermione rubbed the area between her eyes. “Look, Ron, I know I can’t say I understand everything, but part of finding acceptance in others is learning to accept yourself. If you can’t find something in yourself to love, then expecting others to find it for you is frustrating. That’s what happened to me back in first year… when I thought I’d be friendless forever.”

“You?” Ron scoffed. “Friendless? Whatever.”

“No, seriously, Ron,” Hermione insisted. “I wasn’t crying my eyes out in the bathroom just to get beat up by a mountain troll, you know. I was hurt, frustrated… desperate to be understood, and thinking it would never happen.”

“I guess I did have something to do with that, didn’t I?” Ron smirked, a hint of the old Ron in his voice.

“Dad, Sirius, and Lupin said I needed to grow up,” Ron said bitterly. “Or everything I wanted to be a part of would grow up without me.”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

“They were more eloquent about it,” Ron said, staring into the water. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a righteous git. I have a lot of… anger I’m working though. I don’t even know where some of it comes from. I can’t even promise I’ll be level headed about it tomorrow. I get so angry on the flip of a sickle… but I’m going to try and… be less jealous of you and Harry. Maybe Krum too. Okay… maybe just about everyone I’ve been taking things out on in the Tower.”

Hermione snorted. She stood up on the ledge of the bridge and extended her arms out, feeling the breeze blowing through her robes. “Maybe you can try out for the Quidditch team, Ron. That’s something you’ve always loved. You know all the rules, and you’re good on a broom. I realise that coming from me, everyone is good on a broom, but…”

Ron snorted and laughed. “You are pretty pathetic on a broom.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I can’t help that I’ve focused on other interests.” She jumped down on to the bridge path and stretched. “Ginny and Harry are probably waiting.” She started to walk back towards Hogwarts. “I know we have a lot to work though, Ron, but I hope we can, eventually, work it through.” She pursed her lips together as she looked back at him, then turned to continue her walk.

“’Mione,” Ron called as he moved to follow.

“Hrm?”

“I’m sorry for busting up your hippogriff,” he said awkwardly.

Hermione looked at him, her eyes seemingly darkening as she stared at him. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her lips curved into a small smile. “If you do anything that stupid again, I’m letting Ginny have her way with you right after I let him peck out your eyes.” Vik poked his head out from Hermione’s hair and glared at him as if to punctuate her threat.

Ron paled a little and nodded.

Hermione smirked and rushed down the path towards Hogwarts. It wasn’t a perfect reconciliation, but it was a start.

Above them, perched high above in stone archways, a dark eagle owl took wing, his silent wing beats carrying him aloft and into the thermals of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, there will be more typos thanks to being on the worst typing keyboard on the planet. My normal keyboard started acting like random keys were pressed all the time. Now, I have this horrible half-key height keyboard that is the most horrible thing to type on ever, is not mechanical, insults me just by being there, and makes me want to start cursing in Bulgarian. (Which would be a feat, since I have no idea how to speak Bulgarian. Chapters will be delayed until I get a less dysfunctional typing keyboard. *shakes fist*. I should type a sentence here so you can see what I mean:
> 
>  
> 
> This is the kind of thing that happens when I am trying to type on this horrible excuse for akeyboard. Randomsticky lack of spacebarresponse as well as myfingers notfitting on the bloody half-keys. ARGH.
> 
> Anyway… Sorry for the short chapter. Updates as classwork gets done and I manage to find myself a better input device.


	29. The Second Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Task looms.  
> Hermione tells Harry about Winky.  
> There is some new insight on the Highmaster for Durmstrang.  
> Draco completes his Animagus transformation.  
> Hermione disappears without notice.  
> Rita Skeeter has a... problem.

**Chapter 29: The Second Task**

Hogsmeade was bustling with activity as usual, but it seemed even more busy with the addition of the foreign guests mingled in with the Hogwarts students. Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had commandeered a nice table at the Three Broomsticks with butter beers and food taking up space between them as they chatted.

"He looks unpleasant," Ron said as he flicked his eyes to where Igor Karkaroff was nursing a drink of what looked like something that would kick you in the teeth and leave you moaning on the floor. Odd vapours came off the surface of the mug he was holding.

"That drink looks positively lethal," Harry whispered.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances.

"It looks like something that belongs in one of Snape's cauldrons…" Ginny whispered.

Vik fluttered down onto the table and began to tug at the pile of chips in front of Ron. He grasped one and dragged it across the table to Ginny and chirped.

Ginny giggled as Ron scowled. "That little feathered git just stole my chip."

Ginny ate the chip with a giggle, scratching the hippogriff on the chin.

Ron glared at Ginny. "You trained him to filch food for you?"

Ginny looked at her brother innocently.

"Psh," Ron grunted. "I'm glad there is only one of those buggers."

Ginny grinned.

"Harry, are you ready for the second trial?" Hermione asked.

"As ready as I can be," Harry said, taking a really big swig of his butter beer.

"I wonder what you'll have to find at the bottom of the lake?" Ginny asked.

"What did it say again?" Ron asked.

"We've taken what you'll sorely miss/ An hour long you'll have to look/ And to recover what we took," Harry recited.

"I wonder what they'll take… what would you sorely miss, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"His broom," Ron snickered.

Harry made a face as if to deny he cared so much for his beloved broom, but failed utterly.

"I bet you love being able to just come to Hogsmeade now, eh Harry?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Much better than last year."

"Have you finished moving all of your stuff into the new place?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it didn't take long at all," Harry confessed. "It's not like the Dursleys really let me have much of my own stuff anyway."

"Well, you'll just have to fill your new space up with your stuff, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry grinned. "I'm glad I have a place to fill up."

All of those gathered at the table were in perfect agreement that Harry was better off with Sirius, even if the Dursleys hadn't been the best example of dysfunctional and abusive family life.

There was a slam of a mug down on one of the far tables, and the group of Gryffindor stared towards the source.

Igor had taken a giant swig of the horrible looking drink he had been nursing for the past hour. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he stood, storming out of the Three Broomsticks with a dour expression on his face.

Little Vik dove into Hermione's hair with a worried chirp.

"I wonder what his story is," Ginny pondered.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure it's complicated. No one drinks whatever that horrible concoction was without… having issues they are dealing with. Just looking at the drink was unnerving."

"Any idea what it was?" Harry asked.

"Somehow I doubt it's on Rosmerta's standard drink menu," Ginny replied. She looked at Hermione, who was staring at the place Igor had vacated with an almost eerie focus. Ginny poked Hermione. "What has you so focused?"

Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. "Sorry, just thinking."

"Well enough of that on a Saturday," Ginny nudged her with her elbow.

"I say we go and visit Honeydukes," Harry suggested.

"Great idea," Ginny nodded, standing up and shooing everyone on their feet to leave.

"I'm going, I'm going," Ron complained. "You're so pushy."

Ginny proceeded to push Ron ahead of her and out the door.

Harry exchanged glances with Hermione and shrugged, following after.

Hermione shook her head and trailed after him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What's with the fabric, Hermione?" Harry asked, reaching out to feel the fabric between his fingers. It was a soft and almost silken fabric in a modest dusty rose colour.

"It's a really long story," Hermione chuckled.

Harry handed her a honey stick he had bought from Honeydukes. "Try me."

"Remember Winky? The drunken house-elf that served Barty Junior?" Hermione asked, chewing on the honey stick with her teeth to break open the end and pillage the sweet honey within.

"Sure," Harry said. "Hard to forget that visual."

"She was hurting herself trying to get back into the Crouch family's good graces again by trying to complete what Junior started. She'd been given clothes. That's why she was drinking so much. She was desperate," Hermione explained.

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "You're saying she wanted to be in servitude?"

Hermione nodded. "I've started to realise that Dobby was not the best example of house-elf attitude I could have taken to heart," she admitted. "Winky was going insane trying to get back in good graces of her Masters. The only way to cancel out the compulsions to carry out Barty's orders was… binding her to someone else. Otherwise, Dumbledore said, the Aurors would have taken her away and… subdued her by any means necessary."

"Hermione," Harry stalled her. "Did you just admit you were wrong about house elves?"

"Harry James Potter," Hermione huffed. "Did you just skip over everything I just said and focus on me being wrong?"

Harry grinned at her.

Hermione slumped.

"Seriously, Hermione," Harry said. "What could she have have possibly wanted to do that would have Aurors involved?"

Hermione's face went serious. "Remember that dream you told Ron and I about?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry nodded. "Creepy graveyard. Old guy being killed."

"Remember how you said that Barty Junior looked like the guy from your dream?" Hermione said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "If the dream hadn't keep happening so often, I might have mistaken him, but I'm sure it was the same guy from my dream… even though he changed into… whatever that was he turned into."

"Winky was his family's house elf," Hermione explained. "Bartemius Crouch gave her clothes after the incident at the Quidditch World Cup. She was desperate to make things right and have a home again. Junior planted the idea in her head that is she did what he required of her, he would take her back."

"But, Hermione," Harry said with a shake of his head. "How does that explain you getting fabric?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Professor Dumbledore wanted to end her compulsion, so she could function again, but the only one way to do that was to form the bond with her."

"So, why didn't Professor Dumbledore bond with her?" Harry asked.

"He tried, but there was no respect between her and him," Hermione elaborated. "The bond didn't take. She was ready to beat herself bloody to get out and finish what she started."

"And what was that, Hermione?" Harry looked worried, perhaps knowing the answer before she even said it.

"Isolate you from your friends, make a port key out of the Tri-Wizard cup, and deliver you to her Master's Master," Hermione said grimly, having gone over every horrible detail during the bonding process with the distressed house-elf.

"To deliver me to Voldemort…" Harry whispered.

Hermione nodded sadly.

"Why does it always end up coming back to me?" Harry sighed. He looked tired and weary.

"Harry," Hermione said. "It's not your fault, and we'll be here for you. You don't have to be alone anymore. The time when you were the boy no one cared about living in the broom closet is over. You have a home… people who love you. And whatever happens, I will do my best to be there for you too."

Harry's haunted look lightened, and he leaned into her with a nudge of his shoulder. He seemed to realise the conversation had been derailed. "So, why did Professor Dumbledore ask you to bond with Winky?"

"I saved her life during the fight in the Great Hall," Hermione said with a tired smile. "She respected me enough that the bond was possible."

"You realise how odd it is for you of all people to have a house-elf, right?" Harry snickered, handing Hermione a pumpkin pastie.

Hermione blushed as she bit into the pastie. "I'll admit I made premature judgements without all the facts about house-elves, but you need to admit that Dobby didn't exactly give any of us the real story either."

Harry looked sheepish. "I may have left some of the stories out that could have given you better information."

"Harry!"

The black-haired wizard looked at his friend apologetically. "Hey this thread would go with that fabric, and these buttons are beautiful."

"You're right, those would be perfect!" Hermione plucked up the thread and buttons with the fabric and walked to the register.

"Do you think Ron and Ginny are still knee deep into Spintwitches?" Harry asked as Hermione paid for her items and tucked them away.

"Undoubtedly," Hermione snickered. "I'm surprised you aren't there, ogling at all the Quidditch items."

"I have my broom, I don't really need the memorabilia," Harry snickered.

"Who are you, and what have you done to my friend, Harry Potter?" Hermione gave him a sidelong glance.

Harry laughed. "I swear, it's me."

They walked out of the store together, chuckling.

"Hermione?" questioned Harry.

"I am worried about Monday," he confessed. "What if I can't find whatever is they stole from me? What if it's… the picture of my parents hidden in the mud on the bottom of the lake, and I don't get to it in time… and it's gone forever?"

Hermione stopped walking and spun harshly, grabbing Harry in her arms into a tight hug. "Harry, you're a brave and great wizard. You just have to believe in that."

Harry looked at her with shaky confidence. "I never wanted to be in the limelight. I just wanted to be me, but… things just keep happening to me.

Hermione smiled at him. "Harry, you can be you and be a great wizard. That doesn't mean you're asking for bad things to happen to you. Things are happening to you, I'm not denying that, but it's not your fault they are, you know?"

Harry grinned. "How is it you know exactly what I'm thinking and call me out for it?"

"That's what friends do," Hermione smirked.

Harry caught her up in a hug, clinging to her desperately in the snow. "No, that's what family does," he said into her ear. He pulled away, and his eyes smiled with the rest of his face. "My blood family is… not something I'm proud of, but I'd like to think I've gained better family than blood gave me."

Hermione gave Harry a brilliant smile.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What happened?" Hermione rushed up to the group of Durmstrang. A small group of them were gathered around one their own, but the student looked a bit bedraggled.

"Rurik stood in way of High Master," one of the other students said in explanation.

"Never goes well," another said.

Rurik was nursing his cheek, which was red and starting to bruise.

"What did you say to him?" Hermione asked, pulling a small tin out from her robe. She removed the lid and dipped her fingers in, then started to smear it across Rurik's cheek.

Rurik winced slightly, but tolerated her ministrations. "Bolshoe spasibo, sestrá," the Russian student said softly as she finished rubbing the salve on his face. "Said nothing," he answered her belatedly. "Just in way."

Hermione managed to look horrified. "He busted your face because you were in his way?"

"Normally… am not so slow," Rurik said with a weak smile. "Was not paying attention."

"That's hardly an excuse," Hermione grumbled.

"We are, unfortunately, used to it," Nathan said, stepping into the crowd of students. He inspected Rurik's face critically and gave him a sad smile. "The rest of the school is not molded to his example, thankfully."

"Harry and I saw your High Master having a drink at the Three Broomsticks earlier today," Hermione said. "I'm not sure what he was drinking, but it looked positively awful."

"Marko would know," Nathan said, nudging the tall student beside him with his elbow.

Marko darted his eyes as though caught in a trap. "What?"

Nathan smirked. "You know what odd drinks the High Master is usually drinking."

"Oh, da," Marko smirked, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "If it was dark blue, vith bubbles, dhat is relaxing drink. If it vas dark green, vith strange vapours… dhat is calming drink… someting you drink vhen nerves are everywhere. If red and angry… is varming drink vhen cold."

"It was definitely the vapour one," Hermione recalled.

"Hrm," Marko said with a shrug. "Explain bad temper then."

"Challenge is soon," Rurik said. "Everyone worried or excited."

"Sometimes both," Nathan said.

"Well, I hope that our next conversation is not while I while I patch up your face, Rurik," Hermione chuckled.

"Am Russian," Rurik said as if that explained everything. "Will be okay, sestrá."

"Psh," Marko said. "Worse tings in Homeland dhan Karkaroff. One day, maybe, he meet one.

The other boys nodded in agreement, murmuring to each other.

Hermione shook her head at their calm reasoning over something she would probably not accept so gracefully.

"Come on, brothers, time to take our letters and parcels to the post, before our families think we've forgotten how to write and are hiding news," Nathan redirected his fellows, making a shooing motion.

The group grinned at each other.

"See you again soon, sestrá," they chimed, hustling off towards the post office with haste.

Hermione smiled as she watched them go.

Ginny poked her head out of Gladrags and waved her arm to her. "Hermione! Come on! We're picking out socks for Dobby!"

Hermione laughed, hustling to join her friends.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

There was virtual mismatch of animals parts tangled up in the middle of his drawing room, and Severus could barely tell where one ended and the other began.

The fire in the hearth was blazing, sending a comfortable heat throughout the room, joined with the combined body heat of one sprawled gryphon and a simurgh that were tangled up on a flop pile, fast asleep.

If the two patchwork animals didn't make an interesting enough visual, a large black and blond brindled serpent was woven in between the wings and fur, making use of the gratuitous body heat the two were putting out.

The serpent flicked his tongue out lazily, grey slitted eyes were watching him, unblinking.

"A little far from your native central Australian semi-arid habitat, Draco?" Severus rumbled softly, as he transferred an armful of scrolls onto his writing desk. "Come here, and let me look at you."

Draco gave a fang filled yawn and slithered out from between the gryphon and simurgh lazily, crept across the floor in a silent side to side motion, and curled around Snape's extended hand and arm.

Severus lifted him as he sat back on his comfortable couch, running his hand across his scales. His eyes flicked back and forth to examine his colouration. Caught in between winter and summer, his scale colours were half brindled, but his head and back had a darker caramel brown that gradated into an almost black, glossy appearance towards the head. Perfect for absorbing all important sun during the winter season in a native habitat but probably not so vital in an animagus with access to warm hearth fires and the elevated body heat of animagi allies.

Severus had to admit, even without being a reptile himself, the surrounding warmth of his chambers when his Apprentice and her suitor were present made the environment infinitely more comfortable and less, dare he think it, dungeon-like.

Severus smirked, releasing Draco with a stroke of his hand over his scales. "Leave it to you to end up as an inland taipan in Europe. At least you won't stick out as badly as say… a king cobra."

Draco yawned lazily, slithering back into the pile of warm bodies by the hearth, ever the reptile, only now physically as well as in character.

Taking in a breath, Severus transferred himself to the floor, reaching out to soothe the feathers on Hermione's head.

Hermione opened one eye sleepily, chirping a drowsy greeting to him. Her mind was relaxed and fuzzy, welcoming his touch both mentally and physically, but was happily lethargic as she enjoyed the safety of his chambers.

Her willingness to share the company of both her suitor and Draco in the middle of Severus' quarters was a type of demonstrative trust. She was saying there was nothing going on between them that she would hide from him, she was not ashamed of anything she was doing, and she wanted Severus to know what was going on in her life outside of the classroom and apprenticeship.

It was no small gift or trust she gave him, and through her, she bridged the trust of others to him. It was enough to boggle the mind of Severus Snape, whose track record with trust, being trusted, or trusting others was… less than a stellar example. Even Albus' supposed trust in him was riddled with the suspicion that his trust in him hinged on his belief in Severus' guilt over the past rather than the man himself.

As his hand gently soothed her feathers and the scent of her infused the air, he rubbed the area below her head, soothing the skin of her neck with long strokes.

Hermione chirped softly, rubbing against his hand with a slight clacking of her beak.

"Minerva wishes to speak with you this evening," Severus said quietly. "She has the Weasley twins out looking for you."

The drowsy gryphon yawned beakily and laid her head in his lap, looking up at him appealingly.

"I'm afraid I cannot save you from Minerva this time, my Apprentice," he said, soothing her "ears" gently. "I believe this is an official sort of summons."

Hermione chirped sadly, curving her beak around Viktor's back, who woke drowsily, eyes opening half way as he rolled over on his back and his paw patted her on the beak, batting at it lazily.

Draco, dislodged by the roll-over from his warm place, hissed softly in annoyance, changing back into his human form and warming himself by the fire.

Severus smirked. "At this rate, I am going to have to expand my chambers, and how exactly am I going to explain that need to Albus, hrm?"

Three pairs of eyes looked at him curiously.

"Mmhmm," Severus grunted, pushing himself off the floor and going to his desk.

Hermione stood slowly, stretching out from beak tip to tail tip. Viktor tangled his legs around her neck and pulled her back down. She squeaked, rolling over on him, her tail smacking against the nearby table, dislodging a plate that looked like it was about to take a plunge to the floor.

"Mind the table, please," Severus rumbled as he scribbled over a parchment.

Apologetic chirps and whines came his direction as Hermione and Viktor stood up and shook themselves off and took human shape. Little Vik fluttered out of Hermione's hair, chirping his own commentary.

"Master," Hermione said. "May I leave the little guy here while I meet Professor McGonagall?"

Severus said nothing, only sweeping his hand over to point towards a "nest" of parchments a certain hippogriff had built a nest in on a previous evening.

Hermine grinned, cupping Vik in her hands and kissing him on the beak. "Behave while you are with my Master," she said releasing him into the scrolls. Vik trotted daintily over to his nest and flopped in it, chirping contentment.

"Good luck vith meeting," Viktor said as she readied to leave.

Hermione hugged Viktor warmly. "Good luck with the trial tomorrow. I'm sure you do not need luck."

Viktor smiled as he kissed the top of her hand. "Do not need luck vith you near."

Hermione blushed profusely as Draco made a gagging gesture at her. Hermione pulled Draco into a hug, and then wrapped her arms around Severus' back as he graded, pressing her head against his shoulder blades. "Goodnight," she said warmly.

Severus lifted on hand to ruffle her hair, his long fingers patting her gently.

Hermione grinned and swept out of the portal in a flurry of movement.

"I must go and meet vith my High Master," Viktor said as he readied to leave as well. "Before he come looking. Goodnight, Draco. Goodnight, Master."

"Night, Viktor," Draco said as he flopped into Severus' chair by the fire.

"Goodnight," Severus with a curt nod before he went back to his grading.

Viktor bowed slightly at the neck and exited the chambers as swiftly as Hermione.

"What do you think McGonagall wants with Hermione?" Draco asked idly as he stared into the fire.

"On the eve of the second trial," Severus answered grimly, "who can be sure?"

Draco nodded and sighed. Hopefully there would not as much drama as the first trial had caused.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was about and hour or two later that Draco knew something was wrong. It wasn't a tingle or some sense of impending doom. There were no fireworks or a blazing fireball shaped into the form of a dragon that came flying into the room in an obvious scene of malcontent.

What tipped off him off was silence. His godfather went perfectly still, his quill froze over the parchments he had been grading noisily for the past few hours. Even though his godfather was not the most talkative of people on a normal occasion, the silence was deafening.

"Severus?" Draco asked, setting the book he had been studying on the table. "What is it?"

Vik was chirping concern as he nudged his body into Severus' hand.

Severus' knuckles were white, even as his fingers curved around the little hippogriff.

Draco hurried over to his godfather. "Severus? Uncle! What is it?"

Severus looked up at him. His pupils were so wide that his normally black eyes seemed even more so. His complexion was pale. He stood, turning away from Draco with a flutter of his outer robe. He was frozen like a gargoyle with every part of him still.

"Uncle?" Draco pleaded. "Please. Tell me what is wrong."

When Severus turned back to Draco, he saw something he hadn't seen in years.

Severus' expression was blank. Cold. Emotionless. He had chased every bit of feeling he normally allowed to at least sneak out of his eyes or the corners of his mouth deep into the corners of his well guarded mind. His skin was a pale as his knuckles, even as he clutched the little hippogriff to his chest. The little creature was snuggled tightly against his robes, his little wings folded over Severus' pale fingers like a drape.

"Uncle?" Draco repeated, frightened to see such a change in what had become an unspoken warmth between his godfather, himself, and one oddly compatible Gryffindor.

"Her voice is gone," Severus said softly, his voice hardly a whisper. "I cannot hear her."

"What?" Draco's voice cracked. The bond between his godfather and Hermione was unquestionably strong. They could hear each other from hundreds of miles away, possibly even more. Draco didn't claim to understand it, but he knew that its imprint upon them both was deep. Deep enough that it's absence was enough to chase every emotion from his godfather's eyes. "Can you not sense her?"

"She is… alive," Severus said carefully. "But she does not respond to me."

Draco furrowed his brows, unsure of what question to ask that would not cause his godfather to retreat ever further under his mask. "What was the last thing she said?"

Severus locked gazes with Draco as his hand ever so gently stroked the hippogriff he was clutching to his chest. "She said Albus had ordered Minerva to prepare her for the second trail."

"What?" Draco protested. "What do you mean she had to be prepared for trial? She's not a Tri-wizard champion!"

"No," Severus said with an eerily even tone. "She's to be one of the four victims."

Draco sank back into the chair near him, the wind stolen from his lungs. Whatever "prepared" meant had rendered Hermione unable to communicate with Severus. As he looked into his godfather's pale face and unemotional expression, he knew he would have done anything in his power to restore its touch back upon his Uncle and chase the eerie stone-faced look that clung to him away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was worried. Perhaps worried was not a sufficient enough word to describe what he was feeling. Ron had not come back from his summons from McGonagall's office, and Hermione had not made an appearance yet before his second trial. Had something happened to them? He hadn't fought with either of them, so he doubted he had mysteriously offended them both without knowing why.

As he stood there, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl being stared at during the fair, his nerves were driving him absolutely crazy. Announcements were being made. Point tallies were being yelled, but none of it made any sense to Harry. The words could have been in Yiddish as far as he knew, for his mind was focused on everything else.

The cold air was far more chilly than he expected, and as he stood exposed in his swimming trunks, he knew the water would be even more freezing than the air. It was still February, after all, and a part of him wished he had paid more attention to Hermione when she had asked if he wanted to know how to charm his clothes to keep him warm.

Why had he ignored her offer anyway? Oh, right. He'd been an utter idiot focusing on the fact he had no date for the Ball and Cho had been taken by a then unknown person. Harry slapped himself in the face. Sometimes, he really was a bloody idiot.

The boom of the starting canon shook him out of his self-deprecation enough for him to remember to stuff the gillyweed in his mouth. He had enough for two doses according to Neville, provided something about saltwater and freshwater didn't mess things up.

The gillyweed was like trying to eat an octopus… an angry and live octopus that was trying to crawl out of his mouth and take out its offence on his face.

Chewing with effort and forcing himself to swallow, he started to choke. He wasn't sure if it was the gillyweed getting stuck in his throat, or the effect of the said gillyweed, but he was pretty sure, if he survived this trial, he was going to strangle Neville over it later.

The others had already dived into the cold February lake water, and he awkwardly dove into it as well, feeling the jolt of shock as his body complained bitterly that the cold water was a bit too cold for human comfort. He felt a strange tingling on his neck and he clutched his neck as strange convulsions went through his body.

Then, suddenly, the water wasn't cold anymore. He gasped under the water, but instead of choking, water passed down his throat and past newly formed gills, allowing him to obtain precious oxygen. He stared at his hands and then his feet. Fine webbing was now spread between his fingers. His feet had become like fins. Okay, maybe Neville would get a free pass on the scheduled strangulation Harry had planned for later.

Harry took off under the water, zooming further down into the lake. The lake water was murky and hard to see through, and the lake weeds were thick and unhelpful. Every direction looked the same. The weather above had been cloudy and dreary on the surface, and the underwater landscape was not much better.

He swam swiftly, but without direction for quite some time, randomly choosing places he though he hadn't seen before, but he was starting to feel pretty useless. He had no idea what he was searching for? Did they steal his broom, as they had speculated before? Maybe the did steal the picture of his parents he had thought safely stashed in his chest back at Hogwarts. What was he looking for?

Then, as if to answer his desperation, he heard the soft sound of singing, much like the melody that had come from the egg. Taking it as a hint, he kicked harder, sending himself zooming off in the direction he heard the song. Hopefully the song would guide him to where he needed to be. It was the only thing he could think of.

As he finally began to see an outcrop of rock as a landmark, he slowed his kicking in order to orientate himself, and eventually made out a series of stone archways and buildings set in the bottom of the lake like a sunken city. There were strange glows floating in the city like lanterns, and it a gathering of merpeople swimming circles around… people?

Harry kicked in closer, and the merpeople seemed to ignore him completely, save to leer at him occasionally. As he approached the people, he realised why Ron and Hermione had not made it to see him before the trial. Both of them were anchored to the lake floor, apparently spelt to be in suspended animation, save for the trail of bubbles that indicated they were, at least, breathing somehow under the water. Cho, he noticed was also bound, and a young girl who who he didn't recognise.

Who was he supposed to rescue out of the four? Ron and Hermione were both his friends. Cho, well, he wanted to be her friend. He worked on the tether that was holding Ron to the rock, hid webbed fingers having problems with manipulating the slippery cord. He grabbed a sharp looking rock and tried to cut away at the cord in stead, and slowly the cord seemed to yield under his frantic cutting motions.

Just as he felt the cord snap, Cedric had found the group of victims. He pointed his wand at the cord around Cho's ankle and blasted it with a spell. He wove his arm around Cho's and tapped his wand to his watch at Harry, gesturing upward before he took off into the murk.

Harry, inwardly smacking himself for not thinking of spells to cut the cords, pointed his wand at Hermione's tether, only to have a pitchfork shoved at his neck.

"Your friend only," the merman hissed at him.

"But, she's my friend too!" Harry protested in a burble of waterlogged words.

He was contemplating fighting his way to her when something caused the merpeople to scatter with cries of terror.

Harry looked into the gloom and startled as the largest shark head he had ever seen was coming directly for him. He yelled and swam to the side, but the shark ignored him, heading straight for Hermione. It was only when the shark's mouth snapped around the tether, jerked sharply, and released her when he realised that the shark head was attached to a human body.

The shark-man looped his arm around Hermione's and swam upwards immediately, leaving Harry, Ron, and the mysterious girl to their own rescues.

Harry knew his time was dwindling, and he frantically checked his pockets for his second dose of gillyweed, panicking when he realised his pocket had emptied somewhere between the surface and where he was. All he had was the time he had left. He hadn't even thought to ensure his pockets remained sealed underwater.

Looking around, he realised the merpeople had not come back from their scared exodus due to Viktor's entrance. He looked around for signs of Fleur, but saw nothing. The poem said if they failed, what the mer folk had stole would be there to rot… would they really let someone drown to death because the champions couldn't complete their task? Could they really be that… merciless?

Harry, deciding that he couldn't risk the chance that Fleur's "treasure" be left to rot at the bottom of Black Lake, pointed his wand at the tether, releasing the blond haired girl.

Taking Ron and the girl's hand, he started to kick wildly towards the surface. His legs were burning soon after, but he forced himself to keep going. His arms were aching as he held onto Ron and the girl's hand as he drove himself up and up and up.

His lungs were starting to burn. He felt the chill of the water again, and he knew he was losing the effects of the precious gillyweed. He could see the surface water now. He had to keep going.

Forcing himself to work without taking any more breaths, his muscles ached and his lungs were burning desperately for air. He felt his chest trying to clench and force him to breath, not understanding that him breathing water now was far worse than not.

Finally, his head broke the surface of the water, and he took in a gulp of air, another, and another, yanking Ron and the young girl to the surface. There was cheering all around, but he didn't really hear it, instead focusing on pulling Ron and the girls to the diving platforms.

Ron was coughing and shivering as the stasis spell broke off him. Someone was covering him with towels and blankets. Fleur descended upon the little girl Harry had dragged up with him, crying that he had saved her little sister. Cho was shivering on a seat on the platform. Cedric was rubbing her back and shoulders fervently in the cold, chanting a warming charm over her.

Judges were rushing this way and that as Harry realised he had no idea where Hermione was. Someone had given him a towel and a warming blanket, and he gathered his wobbly legs to stand up and search for Hermione.

He found her lying flat on a pile of towels and blankets. Viktor was yelling in Bulgarian, as a small group of Durmstrang rushed over to attend. Harry heard one of the gathered officials say something about the stasis spell not dropping properly after she came out of the water.

Viktor was pulling in insect out of Hermione's hair and tossed it to the deck in disgust. He was shaking Hermione by the shoulders. As his fellow Durmstrang rushed up to surround Hermione and attend Viktor, the officials were chattering wildly.

McGonagall was running rushing up to the platform and Snape, looking more pale than usual, which Harry didn't think was possible, was hot at her heels. As they rushed in, McGonagall stepped on the insect as she passed, slipping on the wet platform, falling into Snape's stiff embrace.

There was a scream from the crowd now, as Snape pulled McGonagall to her feet. There, where the insect had been, was Rita Skeeter, clutching her body in the foetal position, screaming bloody murder. Her body was bruised and possibly broken as if she had been beaten within inches of her life.

All hell broke loose as McGonagall and Snape rushed to Hermione's side to lift the stasis spell, Ministry officials came out of the crowds to surround Rita Skeeter's broken body, officials of Tournament barked orders in multiple directions, the Headmasters of each school yelled orders to their prospective students gathered, and Harry and the rest of the Champions and their rescued victims just stayed far enough away from the drama not to be trampled by it.

Harry looked over to where Hermione was being tended and sighed with relief. Hermione was shivering between Viktor and the gathered professors. He slumped back against the nearby railing and let out a grunt. He didn't even care what rank he came in anymore. He was glad his friends were both safe. Let the rest of the chaos tend to itself for now.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Rita Skeeter Can't Skitter Out of This!

The long time writer for the Daily Prophet has been witnessed and exposed as an illegal animagus of the worst sort. Having been found guilty of multiple accounts of using her form as a beetle to spy on the unwary and obtain information from places she would not normally be allowed, Rita Skeeter is awaiting sentencing before the the Wizengamot. Her multiple infractions of various laws were exposed after her damaging exposure at the Tri-Wizard Tournament that is taking place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The future looks grim for the Daily Prophet's once prolific writer, and it is my duty to you, dear readers, to inform you that the Daily Prophet in no way supports the atrocious actions committed by Rita Skeeter during her employment with the Prophet. Please be assured that we are committed to bringing the Wizarding world the best and most accurate news.

"What a horrible woman," Hermione said tiredly as she set down the Prophet during breakfast.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Seamus asked as he passed down the cereal.

"Much better, thanks Seamus," Hermione said.

"What happened to you out there?" Ginny asked. "We couldn't even get close after the event thanks to Rita's exposure as an animagus."

"The stasis spell Professor McGonagall cast on Ron and myself was supposed to wear off once we came to the surface, but for some reason, the trigger didn't happen for mine. I was stuck in stasis until she came down and manually dispelled it.

"Not to say that your stasis was a good thing, Hermione," Neville said, "but if they hadn't been rushing up to help you, Rita would still be running around as a beetle spying on us."

Hermione grinned at Neville. "I can't find myself having any pity for the woman," she admitted. "She's written some despicable things at my and Harry's expense already."

"Not just you," Neville said, pointing to another page. "Apparently theres is a long line of people wanting their pound of flesh now that she's been outed."

"I can't say I have much sympathy for her," Ginny said. "She even wrote horrible things about Hagrid of all people."

Those gathered around the breakfast table nodded their agreement.

"Did they decide what rank everyone was for the second trial, Harry?"

"Not yet," Harry said. "I think they are waiting for the excitement to die down before they rile everyone back up again."

"Probably a good idea, considering there are lynch mobs forming over Skeeter at the moment," Seamus said with a nod.

"I need to drop some parchments off before classes," Hermione said, standing up. "I'll see you guys in double potions later."

"Eugh," Harry, Ron, Seamus and Neville chimed together.

Hermione shook her head and dashed out of the Great Hall.

After dropping off multiple parchments, Hermione let her feet do the walking without direction from her brain. She raised her hand to the portrait for Severus' chambers to start the complex tracing when the portrait simple opened for her, letting her through.

She walked in quickly to remain unseen, and sighed with relief as it closed behind her.

As she entered the drawing room, a blur of excited hippogriff slammed into her, twittering at her face before diving in to her hair.

"Missed you too, little guy," she murmured.

As the dark clad figure standing in the adjoining doorway moved towards her, it only took a few steps of her own to slam directly into Severus. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she rolled her face against his waistcoat and crushed her nose against his chest to take in his scent with a deep breath.

Severus' arms pulled her to him as one hand drew her head against him tightly. His relief flowed over her like a tidal wave, warming her more effectively than the pile of blankets she had been given after her rescue from the bottom of Black Lake.

Hermione sagged into him, closing her eyes, as the comfort of his presence welcomed her home. The rest of the drama would wait for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AriBridge made a nice recommendation for a survivalist (and deadly) snake called the Inland Taipan from Australia. It had some appropriate traits that matched Draco's personality. Thanks to her for the recommendation.


	30. Extermination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repercussions from Rita's exposure as an Animagus sweeps the Wizarding World.  
> The pack enjoys dinner around the fire.  
> Severus sends them on a recon mission.  
> Sirius weighs his preconceived notions with the truth.

**Chapter 30: Extermination**

The school was a flurry of anti-insect activity for days after the end of the second trial. Students from every house and every school would go out of their way to step on every skittering bug they found. Corpses of smashed bugs were littering the halls and pathways both inside Hogwarts and out, a grim testament to the paranoia caused by Rita Skeeter’s betrayal. Beetles, grasshoppers, spiders, leaf hoppers, earwigs, cockroaches, wasps, and mantids were all the unfortunate victims of the rise in paranoia. The paranoia was not limited to the confines of Hogwarts either. Hogsmeade was littered with insect corpses, kids were running around with bugs in small cages claiming it was Rita Skeeter, and apparently there was a rise of Muggle exterminator calls in every major city where the Wizarding community was strong.

Minerva, despite wishing to remain out of it, was being hailed as a hero animagus, even though she never transformed at any point during the entire exposing of Rita. Wizarding children, often the same children running around with bugs in cages, ran around with painted whiskers and enchanted cat ear headbands and wearable tails to pretend to be her. The story of her heroic deed somehow changed from the witch who tripped on Rita’s beetle form to the heroic witch who single-handedly saved the Tri-Wizard Tournament. McGonagall, flustered to the extreme, tried to keep order in her classes as well as her private life, but the fame from the tabloids was not helping her in the slightest. Dumbledore seemed to encourage the hero worship of his Deputy Headmistress with a smile and an annoying twinkle in his eye, making a few people in Hogwarts wonder if Albus had planned the entire thing from the start.

The tallies were finally in for the second trial. Cedric had taken first, but Viktor and Harry had tied for second. Viktor had been second by right, but Harry had been given credit for “outstanding moral fibre,” and Viktor had smirked at him, cuffing him on the shoulder and ruffling Harry’s black hair. Igor looked disgruntled that Viktor had to share rank with Harry. Fleur came in last due to inability to finish the trial, but she made it clear she was not unhappy. Her sister’s life was worth more to her than glory, and she planned to do her best on the third trial regardless.

Strangely enough, thanks to Minerva’s hero status, the opinion on animagi was creeping up in the public opinion instead of going down, with the consensus being if there could be more wizards and witches with the character of Minerva McGonagall and also be animagi, the world would be a safer place. There were movements now to change the entire registration system into something that would allow animagi to police their own, rather than rely on a system where those who had never known the transformation to do so. Those like Rita Skeeter, they reasoned, could have been outed and stopped long before she was, had they not relied on paper jugglers and pen pushers to be in control of a field of magic that was far more intricate that many had believed. The change in such long standing bureaucracy was bound to take time, but it was working towards change, and even Minerva seemed relieved that things were changing for the better, not that she’d ever thank Rita Skeeter for putting things into motion.

Rita, on the other hand, suffered both from a great disgrace and public shaming. Her body, having been crushed and rebuilt, was never quite “right” in the aftermath. Her credibility as a writer tanked severely with the question of her character, Wizarding supply stories refused to sell her quills and ink, parchment stores mysteriously “ran out of supplies” when she showed up, and no paper worth their reputation even wanted her name near theirs anymore. To top it all off, Rita was forced to wear an ankle band, an idea borrowed from the Muggle world, enchanted that it would never come off. It would glow brightly whenever she changed form and resize no matter what she attempted to do. She was assigned a parole officer of sorts, who checked on her weekly to make sure everything was in place. The warning had been clear. If Rita attempted to gnaw off her leg to get rid of the band on her leg, they would put it around her neck, and they were sure that she would definitely not like that alternative.

Rita ended up banishing herself to the Muggle world, working for the tabloids that would actually hire her, but her talents ended up landing her a job with The Daily Star instead of The Daily Mail or even London’s The Evening Standard, proving to many that her reputation had fallen in both worlds equally low. Arthur Weasley had commented to his children that The Daily Star was a fitting rubbish heap for Rita to be writing for. At least now, he said, no one in the Wizarding or the Muggle world would be able to take her seriously.

The Daily Prophet, much to the relief of many, seemed to regain some of the respectability they had always claimed they had, but ultimately failed at before. Reporters from the Prophet came in to interview the Tri-Wizard Champions again, only this time, the result was hundreds and thousands of fan mail coming in to litter the tables in front of Fleur, Viktor, Cedric, and Harry.

Much to Hermione’s dismay, she was not immune to the change. The hate mail she had received thanks to Rita’s drivel changed to something more positive, and her place setting often became littered with apologetic groveling. One letter, in particular, caused Hermione to blush profusely.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Ron said, snatching the letter and reading it.

“Gah!” Ron blurted. “My mum actually believed that rubbish coming out of Skeeter’s quill? She always tells us not to put any faith in the woman’s claptrap.”

“Mum does get a bit mushy in the head when she’s defending Harry. He’s like an adopted son,” Fred and George chimed in.

Harry blushed this time, shaking his head.

“At least she apologised to you,” Ginny said, as she put down the pilfered letter her mother had written.

Hermione smiled in semi-embarrassment.

A slightly more calm sense of normality was slowly being restored to the halls of Hogwarts, if there ever was such a thing for Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The grassy knoll was never so inviting than after the drama of the second trial. Hermione lay half sprawled in the long grass with her feet up in the air and belly exposed like an overgrown house cat. Her wings were open and flopped in the grass, making her look like she had crash landed and flipped on her back.

Viktor had a large paw draped over her midsection as he groomed her neck with his tongue, gently soothing her fur and her feathers as he went. He growled softly in a canine version of a purr, making sure not to miss grooming the bottom of her chin and the top of her head.

Hermione chirped softly, her beak clacking softly in rapid succession in involuntary response to his ministrations, enjoying his attention like her own little slice of heaven.

When Viktor stopped grooming and lay his head over her belly with a soft whuft of air, she tolerated this for a few minutes before she moved and pinned Viktor down with her fore-talons, preening and oiling his feathers into shape one by one with her beak.

He, much like her before him, grunted softly and enjoyed her attention, rumbling softly as she preened his long peacock tail into order.

Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya landed after the pair had soaked up quite a bit of sun. They each dropped one or two successes of their hunts in a pile before changing into their human forms.

“Good news,drugari,” Aleksander said warmly. “Our hunts were all successful. “If you could do the honours, sestrá.” He tossed the body of an exceedingly plump goose towards Hermione.

Hermione rolled over lazily and pinned the goose down with her fore-talons and began to rip the feathers out of the goose with her beak, sending bits of feathers, down, and pinfeathers in all directions.

Lazar was skinning the rabbits from the pile, and Petya was preparing a small Chinese water deer for roasting. Unlike when they hunted together, the birds brought back multiple smaller prey back to the camp to make up for the lack of larger prey, but they were far from being helpless without the two larger members of their hunting party.

Viktor had changed back into human form, and tended the fire pit he had dug an hour or so previously, raking the coals around and adding a log to keep the fire the right temperature.

Hermione changed over and handed the plucked goose over to Aleksander, who took it gratefully with thanks before he stuffed its inner cavity and set it on a skewer, tying the cavity closed.

Lazar had given each rabbit it’s own skewer as well, setting them around the middle of the sets of spits. Aleksander put the goose on the top-most spit so the tasty oil would drip down upon the rabbits and the deer as it cooked.

Petya set the small water deer on the lowest turning spit, shaking packets of spices over the meat.

“Ve eat like people tonight,” Aleksander laughed as he tended the spits. “Such a bother.”

“Vorth it for human taste buds,” Lazar said, nudging Aleksander. “And ve all know you love your roasted game.”

Aleksander chuckled. “Da, da,” he admitted. “I do.”

Severus and Draco materialised in the clearing nearby with the whoosh of the port-key’s teleportation. Severus was carrying drinks and drinking vessels, and Draco had plates and eating utensils for slightly more civilised eating that did not involve the gulping down of raw meat straight off the carcass.

Valko presented Severus with a pheasant, already dressed and prepared for hanging. He bowed his head respectfully, presenting his prize to their elder with no less loss of esteem.

Severus, touched by the gesture, took the pheasant with a silent nod, hanging it nearby to take with him after the dinner activities were complete.

Lupin ported in, carrying a large basket of desserts and a large grin on his face, shortly before a scruffy looking black dog padded in from the surrounding woods, carrying a cast iron dutch oven gripped in his jaws.

Sirius plunked the oven down into the coals with a bark and changed, sporting his own grin. “It feels good to be able to go to the markets and buy my own stuff again,” Sirius said with a grin. “Even if it is vegetables.”

Lupin laughed. “I never thought I’d see you bringing vegetables to the dinner table, Padfoot.”

Hermione laughed at the two Marauders as their unlikely group settled around the fire, tending the roasts, enjoying the drinks, devouring the food, and discussion the implicating of Harry’s dream now that Winky was no longer bound to do Crouch Junior’s bidding. Bartemius Senior, however, had also been shamed thanks to the exposure of his son’s escape from Azkaban, so they did not expect anything from that front. The conversation turned serious as the group of them speculated on the many what-ifs of Voldemort’s plans now that the best plant he had in Hogwarts had been condemned back into Azkaban.

“Have we located the place from Harry’s dream, Severus?” Sirius asked. “Dumbledore has been vague to me as to the situation via owl.”

“Yes,” Severus droned lowly. “Thanks to Winky, we know exactly where Harry’s dream graveyard is.”

“Well, spit it out, man,” Sirius huffed, gaining a disdainful look from Severus.

Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry. I just… I hate not knowing what’s threatening him.”

Severus looked grim. “Little Hangleton. Once hometown of the Riddle family. It has a graveyard, of which I believe… we will find that the location in the dream… is in fact… reality.”

Sirius and Lupin frowned simultaneously.

“Do we have any idea who may be ‘helping’ Riddle now that Wormtail and Crouch are… out of the running?” Lupin asked.

“Hard to say,” Draco said suddenly. “There are those, like my father, who play lip service to the ‘old’ ways, as he puts it, but it is a tool rather than true loyalty. He would probably not be a willing accomplish to an active resurrection.”

“Can you be sure your father hasn’t been forced into action?” Remus asked. “I cannot. My father and I… rarely speak save through gritted teeth and his cane pressed into my sternum.”

“There are multiple factions of Death Eaters,” Severus said lowly. “Wormtail made a useful tool because he feared more than he was loyal, and fear… is a powerful motivator for a coward. Crouch made a useful tool because he was fanatical. Winky made a useful tool because she was desperate. Each Death Eater has a different reason to serve, and their servants are judged much the same by them as the Dark Lord judges his people.”

“Ve can do reconnaissance,” Viktor said. “Locals do not know us.”

“I do not like sending children in where we should be going,” Lupin said. “I mean no insult to your skills. Sending in the younger generation makes me feel… inept.”

“Is team, yes?” Valko asked.

“Ve all protect our comrades in var,” Petya said. “Dis no different.”

“And technically,” Lazar added, “Ve are of age. All old enough to put name in Goblet of Fire.”

“Can you be unseen?” Sirius asked.

The Durmstrang looked at him with simultaneous smirks. “Of course.”

Lupin looked conflicted. “I don’t feel good about this.”

“They won’t go alone,” Severus said lowly.

Lupin shook his head. “No, no, no,” Severus. “They’re children.”

“They are soldiers, Lupin,” Severus snapped. “You do not train soldiers so they can sit around and play Webster’s Yorkshire Bitter Bar Cricket Game while the war blazes around them.”

Puzzled expressions greeted Severus and he scoffed dismissively.

“Children,” Lupin insisted.

“With the most at stake in this war, Remus,” Severus snapped. “Would you deny them the chance to defend their future just because they aren’t of age you prefer? I guarantee you that they are better prepared than we were at their age.”

Sirius put his hand on Lupin’s shoulder. “He’s right Moony,” he said softly. “I don’t like it either, but he’s right. We’ve already seen what Hermione and Draco can do first hand.”

Lupin slumped but nodded grimly.

“Draco, Hermione,” Severus said curtly. “Take them to Little Hangleton and scout the area. Be swift and silent. Do not be seen.”

Draco leapt to his feet as Hermione dropped onto all fours. He jumped on her back with an automated smoothness. Hermione smashed her head into Severus’ chest. Severus pressed his forehead against her feathered neck as his hand touched Draco’s arm.

Hermione chirped at Severus softly and he nodded to her silently.

Viktor went on all fours, and pressed his muzzle into Severus with a whine. Severus silently placed his hand on his muzzle.

Viktor nuzzled Hermione and they both took to the air. Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya leapt up and followed. The group fell into formation and in a blink of an eye, the entire group disappeared from sight.

“You put a lot of faith into them, Severus,” Lupin said sadly. “I hope it is not misplaced.”

Severus was silent as he finished his dinner. “They put equal faith in me,” he said softly. “I must… meet it in kind.”

Sirius looked into the glowing embers of the campfire. “Perhaps if we had more of that at their age, things would have been different.”

Severus looked into the embers himself, his face revealing nothing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Sirius, Remus, and Severus sat quietly around the fire long into the night. Lupin nodded off, falling asleep as the fire crackled, resting his head on his crumpled coat. Severus stared into the fire without moving save to put another log on the fire and scatter the embers. Sirius watched him, marvelling at how still he could be. Ever since his time in Azkaban, being still was the last thing Sirius was able to do well.

The dull sound of wing beats broke the sound of the campfire, and Hermione landed with a fan of her wings even as Draco leapt off onto the ground as she did so. Viktor landed after her with surprising silence. Hermione curled her body around Severus with a soft chirp, acting like large living couch. Viktor flopped down beside her as the birds flew in over them, circled a few times perhaps to assess that all was well, and then flew back towards the direction of the Durmstrang ship.

Hermione wedged her head underneath Snape’s arm and hand and closed her eyes as Draco wove his serpentine body around her feathered mane. Draco’s body was completely still, save for the occasional flick of his forked tongue.

Severus’ hand flexed, slowly soothing the lay of her feathers and Draco’s scales with his fingers. His head nodded occasionally, appearing to be in the midst of a conversation only he could hear.

As Sirius watched Viktor press his head against Severus’ side, seeking an appeal, only to have Snape gently rub under his jaw with his pale fingers, Sirius felt ashamed that the only attention he had ever given Severus in their school days was ridicule. While he, at their age, had been as guilty as his hated family in judging a person on their appearances, the animagi trio in front of him obviously did not. Before him, perhaps, was a better version of what he, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail—at least before his betrayal—had been once upon a time.

He realised as he watched Snape’s eyes slowly drift closed with a kind of ease he never expected to see, that he owed it to Harry, when the time came, to set his godson straight on the true face of Severus Snape. He owed it to the enigmatic man, whose apparent silent and subtle touch, had given his charges a sense of belonging, purpose, and family.

 

 

 

 


	31. Behind the Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione leads Viktor on a merry chase.  
> Draco and Hermione set off to thwart the sabotage of the third trial.  
> Voldemort makes his move to return.

Chapter 31: Behind the Scenes and the Third Trial

"I really want the Tournament to be over, so we don't have to look under ever bush and behind every tapestry thinking someone or something is going to jump out and drag Harry away," Hermione said with a sigh. "But a part of me, doesn't want it to end at all."

Viktor, who was rubbing her shoulder gently, pulled her closer, tucking her against his chest and under his chin. His particular musk rose up from his body as he stroked her hair with his hand. "Perhaps, you come to Bulgaria dis summer, if Master agree. I show you my Homeland. Dere are places… great caverns carved by vater long ago. Some call dem 'marvellous bridges.' Old forest surrounds, treacherous for human feet. Not so much for four and dhose vith vings."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes shimmered with emotion.

"Dere are gorges in places vhere wings touch each side, so close, barely fit, vhile river rushes beneath, roaring," Viktor said wistfully. "De smell of vater and earth strong. In places, you smell the sea, even vhen surrounded by mountains."

Hermione snuggled closer to him, smelling the sea imprinted upon his personal scent as clearly as if he had just emerged from the seas only moments before. There were those that would never suspect Viktor, known most for his ability to catch a snitch in Quidditch, preferred the most natural places… places were the Oldest Magic could be felt seeping through the very ground and whispering in the air. In that moment, she imagined herself trailing Viktor in flight, chasing him through the river-carved gorges of his Homeland, seeing his significant places in a way no solely human person could ever understand.

"I'd like to see them with you," Hermione confessed.

Viktor placed his palm to her cheek and brushed his thumb across her skin gently. "Dis is I and my brother's last year in Durmstrang. Ve can... Carve our own path in future."

Hermione furrowed her brows, pondering the meaning behind his words.

"After summer, if you find someting vorth keeping," Viktor said awkwardly. "I and brothers perhaps… buy shop in village. Brothers good at making wild game foods. You perhaps, make tiny animals. I charm them, so dhey act like one. Nothing like hippogriff. Keep simple. Like squirrel… or fish that swim in air."

"Something worth keeping?" Hermione repeated softly, looking up at him.

"If you still have me, by end of summer?" Viktor said almost sadly. His black eyes were vulnerable. "Understand if… fancy vear off."

Hermione slammed her forehead into his shoulder. "How can someone so talented be so thick?" she murmured.

Viktor touched her temple with his fingers. "Not so experienced in dis area," he said, his face turned off-kilter with embarrassment. "Eviscerate enemy from across field with silent spell easy. Express self to beautiful and intelligent woman… hard."

Hermione's shoulders quaked as she laughed, her hands clenched Viktor's brown uniform.

Viktor lifted her chin up with his fingers and lowered his mouth to hers, gently pressing his lips to hers in a kiss. The kiss was tender and non-pressuring. He did not ask or demand any more than she was willing to give.

She sank into him, hands clenching as his kiss moved to her neck, his teeth gently grasping the nape of her neck with a soft growl. Coherency went fleeing right out of her brain, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

And suddenly she was off, leaping into the air with a piercing eagle chuckle and scream, and Viktor gave pursuit with a roar. Their wing beats kicked up cyclones of leaves and dust as they tore through the Dark Forest.

Trees and vegetation went by at breakneck speeds as gryphon and simurgh engaged in chase. Deer went bolting in many directions, but the pair did not slow or show any sign of pausing their own chase through the woods. They ran through the air as their wings both beat frantically and spread to catch thermals that jerked them up higher above the forest and then into the clouds. They landed, chasing each other over logs, fields, and streams before going airborne once more.

The chase went on for quite some time, scattering forest animals in their wake and waterfowl as they skimmed the outskirts of the lake. At one point, the thestral herd scattered before them, making high pitched droning as they gathered their foals to them in response to the unexpected invasion.

As the chase began to slow, Viktor proved why he was the best Seeker in the world as he zoomed underneath her, locked his talons around her rear legs, and sent them spiralling down towards the ground. Hermione snapped at him, her beak clacking in the air near his head, but he dodged. With the speed of a serpent, he grasped the scruff of her neck, feathers and all, pressing his bared teeth to her skin in a firm pinch.

And, just like that, it was over. He released her rear legs and spread his wings to break their descent, their bodies landing in a somewhat less than dignified skid across the grass as they came to a forcible rest.

Viktor nuzzled Hermione's head, tongue lolling and sweeping across her feathers as his teeth worked to organise the disarray their merry chase had caused.

Hermione groaned softly, her beak clacking softly as she rolled onto her back, feet in the air, and her neck and belly exposed to his ministrations.

Viktor pinned his foreleg over her belly and took to grooming her thoroughly, washing her vulnerable belly fur and her mane of feathers around her neck with his tongue and teeth.

Hermione's fore-talons twitched involuntarily as he flopped down beside her, laying his dark canine head over her neck and belly as his massive peacock tail curled over her protectively, his ears flicking back and forth to monitor the area around them.

Hermione's eyes drifted closed, trusting that he would alert her if her own senses failed her, but if anything had been stupid enough to attempt an attack on this particular pair of wings, talons, paws, and teeth, they did not make an appearance.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Is it done, Winky?" Hermione asked, staring at the cup that looked unerringly like the Tri-Wizard cup.

"Yes, Mistress," Winky said with a flurry of nods. She wrung her hands on her elf-sized robes she had crafted out of Hermione's gift of cloth and buttons. "Will takes you to place old Master desired… or being back if yous touch it again."

Hermione nodded and sighed. "Thank you, Winky," she said warmly. "You may go."

"Did you get it?" Draco asked from behind her, his voice was wavering in strain.

"I did," Hermione replied. She held out a flask with an almost iridescent purple mixture within. "It's twice as strong, so you will have more time, but…"

"You cannot be sure," Draco said sadly. "I understand." He threw a bag down on the floor and began to undress and redress with the clothes in the bag. His fingers trembled over the buttons.

Hermione stood and closed her hands over his, her eyes meeting his as she tightly grasped his fingers. "I believe in you."

"This is beyond scary, Ari," Draco confessed.

Hermione nodded. "I wish I could be there to guard your back directly."

"You're always guarding my back," Draco said sadly. "It's time I rose up and earned my own Order of Merlin."

"You're far from inept," Hermione scowled at him. "And I don't have an Order of Merlin, you arse."

Draco gave her a sad smile. "Might as well, Ari," he said softly.

Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a drowsy Vik. She kissed him gently on the beak and soothed his feathered wings. "Take care of Draco, little guy. I'm counting on you."

Vik chirped softly, rubbing his beak against her nose. She clutched Vik to her chest before putting him in Draco's hands.

Draco looked at the little hippogriff and pressed his lips together in resolve, tucking him into the pocket of his bright gold and scarlet "Potter" uniform. "I really wish my Uncle was here right now instead of sitting in the stands being all Professorly. I could use a firm cuff to the head and tongue lashing."

Hermione hugged him tight. "Severus says, 'Don't be an idiot, boy. I haven't trained you this far for you to doubt yourself now.'"

Draco let out a strained laugh. "Love you too, Uncle."

They both lifted their heads as they heard the cannon fire and the cheering start.

"Looks like now's the time," Draco said, voice wavering slightly. He took opened the flask Hermione had given him and lifted at her. "Here's to the future." He chugged it back with a wrinkled face. Draco shuddered, made a few gagging noises, and then doubled over. When he straighted back up, Harry Potter stared back at Hermione.

Hermione took his wand in her hand and closed her eyes, murmuring. Draco's wand seemed to shudder in her hand as it took on the shape of Harry's wand. She handed it to Draco.

"You actually memorised what Harry's wand looks like down to the minute scratches," Draco shook his head.

"Never hurts to be careful," Hermione said gently.

An eerie silence came from the stands.

"It begins," Hermione said grimly. They locked gazes over the Tri-Wizard cup.

Draco closed his eyes and opened them again. "I love you, sister," he said, his grey eyes staring into hers. He reached out and touched the cup… and he was gone.

Hermione blinked back a tear as she stared at the place where Draco had disappeared. "I love you too, brother." She trembled before her eyes darkened into black as she shoved her emotion deep within and dropped onto all fours and leapt into the air.

The mission was on. There would be time for sentimentality later.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Crucio!"

"Avra Ked—"

Hermione descended upon the Death Eater guard on the outskirts of Little Hangleton, her talons outstretched as if she were going for a deer, and perhaps, in her mind, that is all the guard was: prey.

As her dagger-like talons pierced the Voldemort supporter, she carried him in the air into the nearby woods, leaving the victim the man had been torturing alone but alive.

Surgical and emotionless, Hermione crushed the man's torso in her grip as she would a deer, her beak snapped the back of his neck. The man's body spasmed and stilled, one final rattle of breath being his last.

Hermione shifted forms taking the black robes off the man cast them over herself to look, strangely, less conspicuous. She drew a circle in the dirt with her hand and slammed her palm down and the Death Eater's body was swallowed up into the earth as though by quicksand. She scented the air, filtering out the tang of blood of her most recent kill, too deep in the purpose of her task to feel anything but the anger that had caused her to descend upon the Death Eater as he tortured his victim.

A pair of guards were standing near the entrance to the graveyard, and she pointed her wand at their heads, whispering as she encouraged their natural distrust of each other, paranoia, and willingness to get rid of the competition. Within a few minutes, the pair were arguing, then shoving each other, then holding wands out at each other… and then two more corpses littered the ground without Hermione having to touch them. The spell had been insidious, but effective.

She disillusioned herself, silently making her way around the graveyard, making sure to hit the hot spots they had scouted on their first fly over. Many guards fell, most by their own devices reflected back onto themselves. Some were so eager to fling themselves at a "real" battle, that they neglected to even test her skill before rushing forward. Perhaps, they were used to being greater in number? Battled in raging hordes instead of taken out by some random rogue operative… she could speculate all evening, but it would hardly help.

One of the guards was more physical than the others. His paranoia tainted his mind long before she got to it. She missed the knife, falling into the trap thinking that those supporting magic supremacy would not base so low as to use something so mundane. She should have known better. The knife sank into her, she hissed out a spell towards the one who had thrown it at her. Something must have given her away— her posture perhaps, or her walk in a rare moment when she hadn't disillusioned herself. Whatever the reason, it was too late now to debate on it.

The man who had blooded her was coming at her in force, but this time with his wand. Perhaps if he had stuck with the knife, he would have had the advantage of familiarity over her unfamiliarity. Hermione put up a shielding charm silently, gritting her teeth as the curses deflected harmlessly, much to the man's anger.

The anger made Hermione focus. Anger was good. Blind anger caused mistakes. Mistakes, she wanted, as long as they weren't hers.

Curse. Deflect. Hex. Reflect.

The man cried out as his hex reflected back at him, causing him to double over in pain. It was all Hermione needed, and her curse took out his legs, filled his mouth with peanut butter, and sent him on his face in the mud.

Hermione took in a deep breath, took his wand, and began contemplating what she was going to do with this particular attacker even as she tended her wound. Then, as if in answer to her "now what" question, the man leapt at her from the ground, attempting to wrap his hands around her throat.

Hermione instinctively shifted, her rear legs pulled up and raked down the man's chest and down his abdomen, her beak snapped, severing his spine with a dull crack. Her attacker went limp, falling upon her as she shifted back, panting heavily. She closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts as she traced her fingers in a circle around the body, muttering the power words and slamming her palm down to the ground to let the earth suck the body under.

Clearing her mind, she continued her patrol on the outskirts, hoping that every guard she took out was one less ally to come in to assist whatever Draco found further in.

Their scouting mission had seen far more people swarming around the small graveyard than would ever be have been there normally. Since when did more than a caretaker or two have to be stationed at a small town graveyard? She could only hope that that every one she took out on the fringes made a difference at all.

Tearing a bit of fabric, she hissed, bandaging her ribs. One step at a time. Clear the guards. Return to the rendezvous spot. Have faith that each gear in their machine did their jobs.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco was not having a good evening, but it seemed the cloaked man that had just cast a bone from the grave under him was having a worse one. The man cast freshly severed arm that he had apparently been stashing in his robes, and now a measure of Draco's blood from a deep cut down his arm.

Draco bit back tears of pain. He'd survived until now only to be brought low by a statue that was holding him and to slowly bleed out onto the grass. At least he had taken three or four of the nameless cloaked men that had come rushing towards him before the statue had grabbed him.

The cloaked man had cast a baby, or what seemed like a baby, into the cauldron, chanting words that did not bode well regardless of how they were said.

The cauldron burbled violently as dark vapour poured up and outward in a sickening semblance of life. As the dark cloud dissipated, what he saw was, oddly, worse. The figure was naked, whiter as bleached bones, and glared into him with unnervingly crimson eyes. Where his nose would have been was flat like a serpent's with slits in place of his nostrils.

"My robe," the figure hissed at the cloaked man. "Now."

The cloaked man bowed and held out a dark black robe for his Master and groveled.

Voldemort, and no one else could it be, hissed inhumanly as he shrugged on the robe, running his thing fingers over his scalp and face as if to memorise the details.

"Igor," Voldemort hissed. "Give me your arm."

The cloaked figured groveled, but held out his arm. Voldemort peeled back his robe and uncovered the mark on his arm, pressing his long and bony finger into his skin. The marked writhed as if alive, causing Igor to scream, his yellowed teeth bared in a grimace of torturous pain. The Dark Mark flared in the sky above, and Voldemort seemed satisfied, flinging Karkaroff away as though he were nothing but stones underfoot.

Voldemort was rambling now, seeming to talk to Draco or the air or nothing at all. He spoke of Harry's family. Voldemort's family, and the accursed spell that allowed Harry to survive that one night so long ago.

"But you aren't protected anymore, Harry," Voldemort hissed triumphantly. He grabbed Draco's arm and squeezed it painfully. "I..can.. Touch you… now." As if to punctuate, he pressed his talon-like finger into the scar on Draco's forehead and made a wailing sound. Draco writhed in pain, crying out as Voldemort dug his fingers into the wound in his arm even as he pressed into his forehead. Voldemort grinned cruelly in satisfaction. "I will deal with you sooooooon, Harrrry." Voldemort seemed to purr the words. "But first… family business."

Death Eaters were materialising around the graveyard now. These were all dressed in more formal robes, their faces were concealed by metallic skull masks.

Voldemort, seemingly not limiting his torture to who he thought was Draco, found great pleasure in making all of his minions grovel before him.

Someone named Avery was first, taking a Crucio until his screams carried to all the surrounding gravestones. Draco's father was next, groveling before the Dark Lord as he swore he had never lost sight of the Old Ways. Voldemort scolded him, yet seemed less apt to use Crucio on him than Avery.

Voldemort spoke highly of the Lestranges, saying they were faithful enough to chose Azkaban rather than renounce their lord. He passed a few Death Eaters without a word, and even Draco could feel the almost tangible sigh of relief as he did so. He singled out Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott's father's, hissing at them that they "will do better this time." All of the Death Eaters seems to shiver and bow in front of their resurrected lord.

"And you, Karkaroff," Voldemort purred. "You betrayed us all, didn't you, coward?"

The cloaked man groveled. "No, Master, I wished only to survive to return to you."

"Liar," Voldemort hissed. "But…"

For a moment Karkaroff looked hopeful.

"Seeing as you were dutiful in my resurrection, even out of fear, I will give you a chance at life."

"Thank you, Master. Thank you," Karkaroff groveled.

A thin evil grin tore across Voldemort's face. "Run, coward. See how long you can avoid the hounds!"

Karkaroff gave a low moan and fled the graveyard, stumbling over the gravestones.

"Here is your first task, my supposedly faithful. Redeem yourself for your Master. Find him and make him suffer for every year of my waiting," Voldemort hissed. "Then kill him."

Death Eaters swarmed in response to his command, putting on their masks and giving chase. Apparates echoed through the graveyard as the chase began.

"And now, Harrrry," Voldemort purred. "It is just you… and me…" He turned to the statue and froze. There, embraced by the statue, was Avery, struggling against the stony arms of imprisonment.

Voldemort hissed, rushing up and grabbing Avery by the neck. "Where is Harry Potter?"

Avery's arrogant face paled. "My Lord, I do not know."

"How did he escape?" Voldemort tightened his grip on his servants' throat.

Avery struggled and choked. "Por..t..key, my…Lord," he choked.

Voldemort screamed in fury, backhanding Avery so hard that he was released from the statue. "Your wand best be the one that kills Karkaroff tonight, Avery, or you will be the next hunt I order."

Avery was choking, trying to stand, grovel, and appease at the same time. "Y..yes, my Lord," he choked out and disapparated immediately, leaving Voldemort to seethe under his Dark Mark.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco materialised in the same place he had left thanks to the port key and he quickly pulled out his wand and blew it to pieces so no one else could accidentally find themselves offered up to the Dark Lord for late night revenge.

Only a second after he did Hermione pounced upon him in a flurry of wings, feathers, fur, and talons, knocking the wind right out of him as her head slammed into his chest and she gave the equivalent of a rumbling purr.

"Ari," Draco oofed. "Thank Merlin," he sighed, wrapping his arms around his professed sister with all the emotion he had wrestled with upon his leaving. Tears ran down his face as he hugged her, wrapping his arms around her as if she were life itself. "Thank, Merlin," he murmured again and again into her neck.

"You're covered in blood, Ari, what happened?" He saw the makeshift bandage around her midsection and the crimson stain in her fur.

"You're cut," Hermione replied, changing into her human form. She patted her robes, looking for something, when Vik twittered excitedly as he hovered between them, clasping a bottle in his talons.

"You little darling," Hermione gushed. She plucked the dittany bottle from the little hippogriff and poured it over Draco's arm. The angry wound began to knit together under a haze of greenish smoke, and while it did not completely heal, at least made it look less life threatening.

Draco sighed with relief and then got agitated. "Bloody hell, give me that," he said, snatching the bottom. "Lay down on your side."

Hermione grunted as she curled up on her side.

Draco peeled back the makeshift bandages she had bound around her ribs and poured the dittany over her wound. The greenish smoke rose from the wound as it slowly knitted back together from the inside out, covering the surface of her skin with a thin new growth of skin.

As the wound closed, he closed the vial and slumped, exhaling noisily as he collapsed next to Hermione and everything went dark.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"That little bugger saved my life," Draco said tiredly from the armchair as he warmed himself by the fire. "He fetched my wand for me while You-know-who was busy sending his Death Eaters after Karkaroff."

Vik perched on his knee and stared up at him, giving him a happy chirp.

"So he really is back?" Hermione said softly.

Draco nodded grimly. "I put the memory in Severus' pensieve for you and him to look over, when you're up to it. I figure, at least for now, there will be some mad celebrations way into the night since we have the first ever quad tie for the Tri-Wizarding Tournament. As if having four contestants for a tri-anything isn't strange enough."

"How's that for inter-school solidarity?" Hermione grinned at him.

"I don't envy any of them. The reporters are swarming over all four of them like Kneazles in catnip. Fleur, Viktor, Cedric, and Harry have gaggles of people following them around so much they can't even use the loo without someone wanting an interview," Draco snickered.

"Don't forget the horde of people trying to get a look at the sphinx they shipped in just for the trial," Hermione said with a tired chuckle.

"Can you believe what they did to Barty Junior?" Draco asked with a curled lip.

"Well, the man mysteriously lost his arm, while imprisoned, in the middle of the night, starts spouting that the Dark Lord has returned while waving his Dark Mark around in Azkaban, and manages to stir up the hornet's nest that is the Ministry of Magic…" Hermione said with a shake of her head. "I imagine it doesn't make certain people… remotely happy about it."

"I bet this is just one more reason for the Ministry to stick its nose where it shouldn't be," Draco replied. "Dad has been buttering up quite a few officials under the table to be more sympathetic to 'the Old Ways' as it were, but from what I have gleaned, the official stance is that You-Know-Who is a myth used to scare children into behaving."

"I'm sorry you had to find your father there, Draco," Hermione said softly. "That couldn't have been easy."

Draco shook his head. "I've suspected a long time. Part of me always knew, even though he went through that entire 'I was under the Imperious Curse' excuse. At least the polyjuice didn't wear off… that would have been… awkward."

"More like fatal, Draco," Hermione forced a laugh.

"Mmm… Yeah that," Draco agreed. "I'd prefer if good old dad didn't know what his errant son was up to, thank you very much."

"I should probably go and make an appearance with Harry, seeing as I'm supposed to be a supportive friend instead of holing up in the dungeon under false pretences," Hermione said as she stood up.

"Yeah me too," he replied, shooing Vik off his knee with both a pat and a shooing motion. "I have pure-blood gossip to keep on."

"Have…fun… with that," Hermione snorted.

As they both moved to exit, the portrait swung open and Severus glided in as he closed the door behind him, and the pair immediately accosted him, wrapping their arms around his waist as they buried their faces into his robes.

He staggered slightly, but his hands gently laid upon their heads.

Their original intention to leave was lost as Severus' embrace welcomed them home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twists! Some of you knew it was coming, seeing as there were some major changes in canon already, but now Voldy is back, but now not quite as impervious to Harry as he thinks he is. Dun Dun DUN! Horcruxes, obviously, still a problem, so somehow that is going to have to be brought up somehow. Good old Dolores Umbridge is going to have to make an appearance, but somehow I doubt any of our heroes are going to take her sitting or lying down this time around. *eyebrow wiggle* And time for me to go back to being studious again. Update will be when things aren't "crazy."


	32. End of Year Four - Who is Going to Drive the Ship?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that all the drama is done, who is going to pilot the ship home?  
> Hogwarts parts company with the visitors from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.  
> Summer arrives. Departures happen.

**Chapter 32: Who is Going to Drive the Ship?**

"Always knew Karkaroff vould find end in bad way," Aleksander said as he passed over a grilled trout from the fire to all present. "Vas only matter of time."

Lazar nodded in agreement. "Man not even liked by own school. Say someting."

"How are you going to get back to Durmstrang?" Hermione asked. "Didn't he guide the ship?"

Petya smirked. "If by guide, you mean sit in private quarters while ve steer, da."

"Wow, he really was an arse," Draco smirked. "Valko, did you have fun masquerading as Hermione?"

"Great fun," Valko laughed. "Had to pretend lost voice due to screaming. Did lot of gesturing vildly, like hysterical woman."

"Prat!" Hermione exclaimed, swatting Valko on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Valko said, waving his hands in appeal.

"I never thought I'd see the day when The Daily Prophet actually served a good purpose," Draco mused as he threw down a copy of the paper. Emblazoned on the front was a picture of the Dark Mark hanging in the air with "Voldemort Returns! Death Eaters Confirmed!"

"It was a bit of desperate genius apparating into room full of Aurors as a horde of Death Eaters materialise to come kill you," Severus smirked.

"Always good about self-preservation," Viktor commented as he rubbed Hermione's shoulder, causing her to flop over into his lap.

"You've found her Achilles Heel," Draco teased.

"If enemy get close enough to rub shoulders, someting vrong," Viktor said with amusement, continuing to rub Hermione's shoulders, which was causing a soft purr to rumble from her.

"Tink she follow me to Bulgaria dis summer?" Viktor asked with a wink.

"Just keep rubbing her shoulders, brother," Lazar snickered.

"So you know," Severus rumbled softly, "She still has to ask her parents."

Petya poked another fish on the fire and took a bite out of it. "Why worry? If Master approve, dhey should have no issue."

"I fear they do not… know of the relationship, Petya," Severus answered.

Valko snatched the bitten fish off Petya and took a bite out of it as well. "Great honour to have Master. Shame parents not know. Then again… many things my parents not know about me. Better dhat vey."

Severus placed his hand on Hermione's head, soothing it, causing another string of purring sounds. "I fear many here at Hogwarts would not consider it… an honour to work with me."

The Durmstrang all shook their heads at his, disbelief written about their faces.

"Your Headmaster," Viktor asked. "What he tink about risen Dark Lord?"

Severus' face was grim. "He believes it, but he's been waiting for a sign like this for some time. Confirmation of a thirteen year old dread. He expected the first blow to be on Potter, however, not Karkaroff."

"Well… technically it was Potter, Uncle," Draco said. "I'll be happier if he can contribute a little better to his own defence, however."

Severus sighed. "How is that training coming?"

"Please, tell me he's at least tried to learn occlumency?" Draco moaned.

Hermione grunted from her position crumpled on Viktor's lap.

Aleksander shook his head. "He is stubborn. Distracted. Understandable vith tournament… but frustrating to teach. No discipline."

Lazar grunted. "He better dhan before, but… mind still too open to keep important secrets."

Hermione rolled over and sighed. "It would help if he knew why it was so important, but… telling him why defeats the purpose of all this secrecy doesn't it?"

"Understatement, my Apprentice," Severus said, soothing her hair.

"Telling him could be emotional as well," Draco reasoned. "And we all know where our shields go when we're bleeding our emotions out our ears."

"Have idea already," Aleksander said. "Brothers and I, we make shop in village. Start summer. Be ready by fall. Vill be close to train. Be close to Sky Sister and comrades."

"Vill give good place to be close, but far enough away to keep ear to ground," Valko added.

"Continue to train," Petya said with a nod. "Until he is ready… to join us as comrade."

"And hopefully still friend by time ve are done," Viktor said.

Hermione sat up. "He's hard to teach, but he has a good heart. It's his heart that makes him hard to teach… but it is his heart that makes him strong."

"He is too much like his father," Severus said, his face unreadable. "But… he is not his father. Perhaps… this will allow him to learn… where his father could not."

Hermione nodded and pressed her head against Severus' side. He soothed her hair with a now practised reassurance.

"I say we all go fly, before brother gets fat," Petya said, ribbing Valko, who was stuffing his face with yet another trout.

"Vhat?" Valko protested, his mouth half full of trout.

Viktor snickered, his shoulders quaking with laughter. "Full time job to feed brother," he chuckled. "May have to buy two stores."

Hermione laughed. "Fred and George wanted to start a joke shop, but they said getting a store would cost a lot more than they expected."

"Is no problem now," Viktor said. "Tri-Wizard winnings more than cover store and then some. Empty shop in town perfect. Had nice living area up top."

"Come on, fatty," Petya said, yanking Valko to his feet. "Let's go!" He leapt into the air, taking wing.

"Oi, oi," Valko stumbled to his feet and took wing, his dark brown mottled wings flaring as he followed Petya's misty form.

Viktor shifted, rolling on his back a few times in the dirt and shaking off before he took wing, giving chase. Aleksander and Lazar followed after.

Hermione changed, head-butting Severus playfully with a series of happy chirps and eagle chuckles. Severus pulled himself up by using her neck scruff, ruffling her haunches with his hands. She took his hand in her beak and released it, turning away to head-butt into Draco.

Draco took the hint and leapt on her back, tucking himself behind her head and in front of her wings. Hermione took off with a few bounces as Severus took the air, following the mismatch of flying creatures as they banked over the Dark Forest.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The end of the year festivities were happy and lighthearted despite the encroaching headlines involving Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. A sense of camaraderie had descended upon the combined students of each school, making parting seem so much more sorrowful than any of them had expected from the start of the year.

Students gathered in the main courtyards, exchanging addresses and hugs with equal enthusiasm.

A gathering of students stood with the Abraxan winged horses as they tacked them up into their traces and prepared the carriage for launch.

Hagrid, seemingly sad to see Madame Olympe Maxime leaving, shared an embrace with the half-giantess with an exchanged of parcels and almost awkward adolescent type shuffling of feet.

The Sons of Durmstrang filed out, missing their High Master, but none of them seemed overly concerned by it. They boarded their ship for the last time that year, perhaps to be seen again in another three with yet another group of talented 7th years.

Cannons shot out over Black Lake as the large sailing ship took to the water in movement and then vanished under the water in a whoosh of magic.

The Abraxan horses neighed as they pulled the witches from Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic across the lake and off over the forest towards France.

When all was said and done, many of those at Hogwarts seemed to have lost a good friend or many with the leaving of the foreign schools, but if the four-way tie had anything to say about the strength of the bonds of friendship and cooperation over that of competition, there was great hope rising within the corridors of Hogwarts that had never before been so strong.

Thanks to the bad publicity caused by the Death Eaters coming in to an Auror meeting to assassinate someone in cold blood, some of the more pure-blood supporting Slytherin were starting to show signs of doubt to the true face of Voldemort. As arrogant and entitled as they may be or have been, nothing was quite as effective as finding your parents whisked off to Azkaban for attempted murder to sober you up to reality. While Pansy Parkinson was hardly sharing meals with Hermione Granger, nor was Crabbe and Goyle socialising freely with Gryffindors, the tension and rivalry had come down a few notches. Durmstrang, after all, were the purest bloods out there—powerful and indisputably lethal— and they showed no bias against those that were not. And the one Durmstrang that did… well… he wasn't exactly the best example of happy endings.

Both foreign schools had left parting gifts to Hogwarts. The Beauxbatons left one of the courtyards of Hogwarts crafted to match the gardens and fountains of their beloved Beauxbatons Palace. Animated mosaics of flying horses decorated the archways, and enchanted butterflies flitted over flowers that never wilted.

Durmstrang Institute left their own decorated courtyard, filled with perpetually burning torches, trees that looked as though it were always autumn, fire-bird constructs that flitted from branch to branch and sometimes entertained students with their antics, and and elemental "water" fall where each tier reflected a different element.

In each decorated courtyard hung the banner of each foreign school, proudly displaying the pride of their schools in solidarity to Hogwarts. Inscribed in the stonework was every student that had taken part on the courtyards making, and carved at the base of each respective fountain were the words "Gathered in competition, united in friendship, and bound in honour."

Even Filch, who seemed more than happy to scowl at most decorated places in Hogwarts, seemed to accept the new decorated courtyards without protest, much to the amazement of… everyone that knew Filch. Even the ghosts seemed to enjoy the changes, often haunting the places quietly by taking up a bench or two, leaning against a tree, or sitting on the rim of the fountains.

Leaving for the train station was a somber affair, but it was more for yet another parting of friends from their school families. Harry hoisted his winnings off on Fred and George, demanding that they make good on their promise to make a joke shop beyond all joke shops, and after a few threats of hexes and the shaking of fists, Fred and George hugged Harry tight and promised him they would.

When Harry met Sirius at the train station in London, all of his dread and sorrow was forgotten. He clung to Sirius with a hug that told everyone how happy he was to be going "home" with someone who actually cared for him.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley met their virtual horde of children with smiles and hugs, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger picked up Hermione with smiles.

Hermione turned as she saw Draco meeting up with his mother and father as he stepped off the train. "I'll miss you," she signed to him.

"Miss you too," he signed even as he was tackled by his mother's embrace as his father looked on with a shake of his head.

Hermione walked with her parents back to the car, carrying her trunk along behind her. She pondered how to ask permission to visit Viktor, explain who Viktor even was, and then justify her going. Somehow, fighting Death Eaters in the graveyard seemed infinitely less complicated.

:I made it home safely, Master,: Hermione said, reaching out to Severus as she flopped on her time-capsuled bed.

:Enjoy your summer, my Apprentice,: he rumbled a reply, sending warmth down the channel of their link.

:I'll miss you," she sent sadly, crumpling her arms around her pillow and hugging it to her chest, feeling homesick already.

:I will miss you too,: he answered.

Vik the Hippogriff squirmed out from her hair and the pillow she was squeezing to death with a plaintive chirp and snuggled up against her cheek. She cupped the little hippogriff in her hands and kissed him on the beak, a single tear running down her cheek. There in her hands was the only tangible proof that the year had really happened. She clutched him to her chest as she flopped on the pillow, soothing his flapping wings with her hand.

Crookshanks leapt up onto her bed with a meow, smelling of pillaged tuna. He curled up next to Hermione with a yawn. Year four had come and gone and things would never be the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Debating on describing Hermione's summer or just going straight into Year Five : Umbridge and Students that Hated Her. Lol. I don't really know anything about Bulgaria, so I'd have to pretty much make ALLLLLL the stuff up. Not that I couldn't, mind you… but.. Argh. Also.. Back to studying. *cry*


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets Viktor's parents.

** Chapter : 33 Summer Interlude I **

"Her-my-own," Viktor said in a low rumble. "Dis is mother. Father."

The woman standing in the entryway smiled, floating across the vestibule like a ghost. "Hermione," the woman said in flawless English. "It is so good to meet the one my son pursues like a snitch." The woman was tall, with olive skin, and long black tresses for hair. She held herself high, with a command that went unspoken, but her expression was warm and welcoming. She clasped Hermione's hand in hers and bowed her head to her.

Hermione, utterly taken aback by the woman's aura of command, fell into a curtsy without the slightest hesitation. "Lady Krum," she said softly. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Such manners for one not even of our Country," Lady Krum said with warmth. "Please, call me Tatiana. Or you may call me maĭka as all of my Viktor's friends do."

Hermione nodded, slightly taken aback by the warmth in her greeting.

"Byal," Tatiana said softly.

Pop. A house elf appeared beside her, saying something in Bulgarian. Hermione noticed that the elf was dressed modestly in a solid green outfit.

"Byal, please speak in English in our guests company. We do not wish to be rude," Lady Krum said softly. "Please fetch tea and food for our guest. She has travelled a long way to be with us."

"Yes, my Lady," Byal said with a bow, and with a pop, was gone.

"I see the question on your face, Hermione," Tatiana said with amusement. "Do you wonder why I speak English more fluently than my son?"

Hermione nodded.

Tatiana chuckled. "I worked as an ambassador in English-speaking embassy for many years, teaching Bulgarian to young wizards and witches who wished to research here. There are many magical and mystical sites in our Country. Many more than history records. It could take your entire life to know them all, and even then… not in depth."

"Now, now," the man who had been watching them silently from the sidelines. "Save long-winded stories for later, when poor girl is not exhausted from journey. I am Tihomir," he said as he took her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the top. "You may call me Tihomir or bashta as all of my son's friends do."

Hermione, despite the casual permission given by the Lord of his house, curtsied to Tihomir as well, privately questioned where all her manners had come from all of a sudden. It wasn't like she had the inclination to curtsy to Draco's parents… ever, even before she knew how horrible Draco's father was.

Tihomir chuckled. "Come, come," he said. "Sit vith us in the drawing room. Byal has already set out the drinks, salad, and mish mash." While Tihomir did have a thick accent, much like Viktor, his practice with English seemed more fluent, perhaps due to practice with his wife. Tihomir had the same air of command in his stance, and she could definitely tell where Viktor got his nose, but he was warm and friendly, just like his wife.

Hermione allowed herself to be shuffled into the next room by Viktor. Her travelling case had already been taken up to her, probably by the very efficient house-elf.

The food, Hermione was happy to note, was beyond tasty. The "mish mash" Viktor's father had mentioned was a colourful salad of garden vegetables, cheese, spices, and eggs. The salad was a mixture of tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, peppers, another type of cheese, and parsley. The dressing was sharp and oily, and smelled perfect in combination with the salad in a way that made Hermione start to drool without meaning to.

The tea was light and refreshing and perfect to calm her nerves from the tightly bound spring it was trying to emulate.

Viktor, as if sensing her tension, drew her against him, pressing her into his scent as he absently rubbed her shoulder. And, much to be expected, she wilted against him almost immediately with a relieved sigh.

Conversation was much more even after that, with Viktor's parents recommending places for them to visit as they went along their travels together. Hermione became more at ease as time went on. Viktor's parents seem to take turns leaving the room to attend to matters of the house, but always returned.

When her eyes started to drift closed without her permission, Tatiana practically ordered her son to take his guest to bed, causing much blushing on Hermione's part and averted eyes on Viktor's. Tihomir burst into laughter at their expense but agreed that yes, it was time to put their guest to bed.

Tatiana pulled her aside just before she went to her guest room. "You need a bag for when you go flying around."

Hermione looked at her with wide eyes.

"I did not fall off my broom yesterday, Hermione," Tatiana chuckled. She handed a finely beaded bag that came on a neck cord. The cord was subtle, as to not attract attention, but the bag it self looked intricately woven. "It is charmed so you can put entire room into it if you really wanted to, but small on outside so no one can suspect it is more than small trinket. Good for travelling cross country."

Hermione stroked the bag lovingly. "Thank you so much!" The bag wiggled and she opened it curiously. Little Vik popped his head out and chirped, fluttering out and diving in to her hair with a happy series of twitters. Hermione stared at the small opening of the bag and stared at Tatiana.

"He helped me pick it out," she said simply.

Hermione burst into laughter. "May I hug you?"

"Of course you can," she replied with a chuckle, enfolding Hermione with a warm hug. "Sleep well, Hermione."

"Goodnight, maĭka," Hermione said as she slipped away to her room.

As Hermione lay down on the top of the bed that seemed like it was built like a fortress, she realised she had way more room than she was used to on her bed from home. Feeling like sprawling, she shifted, rolling her bulk out over the mattress with relief, chirping softly in contentment as her wings fluttered under her.

The door came open and she froze immediately, eyes pinned on the door as her body tensed.

A dark black muzzle poked in with a whine, followed by the rest of Viktor trying to fit through the door. He squeezed in like toothpaste in a tube and nudged the door closed with his rump.

Viktor leapt up onto the mattress and lay down beside her, grooming her shoulder blades with his tongue and nipping at her neck with his teeth.

Hermione relaxed as his foreleg pinned and draped over her wing and his muzzle lay across next to her head, nostrils flaring as he snuggled into her. He curled his long peacock tail across her body like a blanket as his eyes closed.

Hermione emitted a soft purr and leaned into him, allowing sleep to carry her into its dark embrace.

Little Vik fluttered out of her mane of feathers and snuggled in between Hermione and Viktor's heads, wiggling into place with a contented chirp, and settling in for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have never tried to write something listening to music by Thomas Bergerson (such as the Illusions album) and not felt compelled to write epic… EVERYTHING, then I highly recommend trying it out! I do not, however, recommend listening to it when you are trying to wind down before sleep. As for me, I was listening to the "Starvation" track, and now I feel compelled to write an epic aerial rescue scene with trees crashing down everywhere while things are on FIRE or something… Yeah… Time to listen to something more calming.


	34. Summer Interlude II - Travelling with Viktor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Viktor prepare for dinner with unknown guests.  
> Viktor speaks of his childhood.  
> Viktor's mother discovers Viktor and Hermione in Animagus forms.  
> Hermione writes to Harry.  
> Viktor and Hermione enjoy the holiday together.

**Chapter 34: Summer Interlude II**

Hermione woke groggily, feeling entirely too comfortable to attempt moving anywhere fast. Her tail always seemed to wake up first, flicking up and back regardless of her awareness level. She realised as she lay there in her comfy spot that Viktor was still with her, warming her back with his own perceptible body heat, and waking up as a gryphon in the morning on a comfy bed was cathartic. Privately, she wished she could wake up like this back at Hogwarts, but she had a feeling Ginny would probably not respond well to waking up with an overgrown gryphon sprawled out on her best friend's bed. She could use the privacy curtains, she supposed, but Ginny would be the first one to think it was perfectly ok to jump onto her mattress to wake her up. Pouncing on a sleeping gryphon was probably not the wisest idea.

She tried to recall the last time she felt so relaxed when she woke up and realised that the only other times she had was when waking up in her Master's quarters after his scent and familiar surroundings had lulled her into a relaxed state. Well, that and the few times she woke up having fallen asleep on Severus in pure exhaustion, ending up half drooling down his teaching robes like a rampaging St. Bernard. That never ceased to be embarrassing. To his credit, at the very least, he never faulted her for it, woke her up screaming, or made her feel worse. Oh, if Harry even suspected that she'd done that at any time in her life… she was pretty sure it would break his mind.

Hermione yawned beakily, making an eagle squeak mixed with a purr. The movement dislodged the "sleeping" hippogriff that had been nestled in between her head and Viktor's. Vik twittered at her sleepily and flew wobbly into her neck feathers, burying himself in them.

In her half asleep state, a part of her wondered if she could accidentally shift in her sleep and inadvertently give herself away to Ginny. That would be horrible.

Viktor let out a huge canine yawn and began to groom whatever was nearest to him, starting with her face and working down her neck and back.

Hermione purred louder and leaned closer, not really caring where he was he grooming as long as he kept at it.

Strangely enough, he seemed perfectly inclined to do so, taking it upon himself to set her feathers and fur into order as if preparing her for some exotic magical animal show.

Finally somewhat coherent, Hermione rolled, pinned Viktor down with her heavy front talons, and began to preen him in return, setting all his vanes smooth upon his feather shafts and making sure to oil them properly.

Viktor, equally enjoying the attention, twitched his front leg involuntarily, giving away his pleasure.

Hermione squeaked when Viktor rolled her onto her back and groomed the soft area around her neck with an equally soft rumbling growl. He yawned widely as he withdrew from her, returning to his human form.

Hermione shifted as well, yawning. "I could go back to sleep and sleep the rest of the day away," she confessed.

Viktor smiled at her. "Am glad you feel safe enough," he said softly. He looked out over the room, not really focusing on one thing. "Sleep better, when you near," he confessed as well.

Hermione learned into his shoulder wordlessly.

"Should go down for breakfast, though," Viktor said after a moment, "before mother come in with giant bucket of vater."

Hermione blushed a very convincing Gryffindor scarlet causing Viktor to chuckle. He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up, very gently pressing his lips to hers. "Good morning," he said softly as he withdrew.

Hermione mumbled something that might have been "good morning" in Yiddish, staring at Viktor with a tender look.

He smiled at her warmly, tracing his fingers along her jaw. "Is not good morning?" he teased.

She thwacked him with her hand to his chest. "It's a perfectly good morning, you prat," she said with absolutely no venom.

He rewarded with another warm smile, standing from the bed and extending her his hand which she took, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He turned and guided her out of the room towards breakfast.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Breakfast, much like the light meal she had experienced before bed, was delicious to Hermione, and she had no problem at all scarfing it down as fast as politely possible.

Her fast favourite was something Viktor called "banista" which was some sort of filled dough that had equally tasty fillings made of mixed cheeses, rice, meat, and spinach. There were small fritters that Titania had laid out a wide variety of fruit preserves and jam for her to sample with them.

"Your brothers sent word this morning," Tihomir rumbled over what seemed to be the Bulgarian equivalent to the Daily Prophet. Crazily aligned words spread over the paper's surface like they had been pasted randomly by a five-year-old, much like the Prophet. "Deed to property official. They are starting to move in living items first. They request you ship vhat you vant so it can be there when you arrive."

"Brothers alvays in rush," Viktor said with a shake of his head. "Barely graduated. Already moving into new place like only place to live."

Viktor's mother laughed. "They are inspired, my son. It is good to see them properly inspired for once, instead of just chasing wild boars across the forests and trying to drag you with them."

Viktor sputtered. "They did not just drag me off to hunt boar, mother," he argued.

"No," she answered. "They did try to drag you off to go caving that one summer."

Viktor was blushing. Apparently whatever had happened on the caving trip had not gone to plan, judging by the colour of his face. Hermione stifled a giggle.

Viktor's father was snickering from behind his paper, obviously not so inclined to censor his laughter. He grunted after a while, slapping a part of the paper with a shake of his head. "Is your Ministry always so stubborn in the face of danger?" He pointed to an article under a picture of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky.

Hermione couldn't read the paper, but she knew exactly what he was asking about. "Our Ministry… would rather not promote panic than admit the danger, I think."

"A little panic might help people be more inspired to be prepared in the future," Tihomir scoffed.

Hermione shook her head. "I do not claim to understand them. Lately… more so."

Suddenly a soot covered owl came diving in to the room through the fireplace, swooping in and landing next to a startled Hermione. "Hedwig!"

The not so white owl hooted softly, extending her leg to her. Hermione untied the message from her leg and patted her pants for the tin of habitually carried owl treats. She handed Hedwig a treat and soothed her breast feathers before reading the note.

"My friend Harry says hello," Hermione said with a smile. "He wants a postcard."

Hedwig nipped at her fingers.

"Ow!" Hermione said, glaring at Hedwig. "He can't be that impatient for news! What am I going to tell him? All the news is in Bulgarian!"

"Tell you what," Titania said as she cleared the table with a wave of her hand. "While my son packs his things to send to his impatient brothers, I can take you to see one of the archaeological museums. You can get postcards for your friends and keep your fingers safe."

Hermione grinned. "Thank you, that would be wonderful."

Viktor chuckled, but seemed reluctant to let Hermione out of his sight or perhaps reluctant to let Hermione out alone with his mother. Each seemed equally likely.

Titania straightened her posture and glared down at her son with the air of authority. "You will have plenty of time to bond with her later, my son. It is my time to get to know her."

Viktor hung his head and seemed resigned that he wasn't going to win any argument with his mother. "Da, maĭka."

"That's a good son," she said, running her hand across the top of his shortly cut hair, reminding Hermione of how Severus would pat either her or Draco's head. "I will bring her home unharmed."

Hermione found herself being shuffled away from the breakfast table and out the door before she could realise what was going on.

Hedwig shuffled her feet on the chair she was perched on and hooted her commentary.

"Velcome to Bulgaria," Tihomir said, passing the owl a frog leg he had pulled out from somewhere. He went back to reading his paper casually as if nothing abnormal was going on in his house.

Hedwig hooted, fluffing her feathers.

Viktor stood and began to exit.

"Do not worry, my son," Tihomir said in Bulgarian as he read the paper. "Your mother will not tell her too embarrassing stories."

"They will be embarrassing none the less," Viktor replied.

"That's what parents do, my son," his father replied. "We live to embarrass our progeny in front of their cherished ones."

Viktor pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "This is what I am afraid of."

"Look at it this way, my son," he mused. "If she does not leave you after hearing the stories of your childhood, she is definitely worth keeping." The sound of his father's laughter rang through the house as Viktor begrudgingly trudged off to pack his things to be sent off to join his brothers.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Hermione returned hours later, she was shuffled in front of Titania with an utterly flabbergasted look upon her face.

Titania, however, looked absolutely triumphant.

When Viktor came around the corner dragging yet another trunk to add to the collection of trunks gathered by the stairs, his eyes grew wide as saucers. "Her-my-own," he whispered. "You… wear dress."

Hermione dropped the bags she was carrying as Viktor twirled her around, spinning her multiple times before allowing her feet to touch the ground once more.

He ran his hand down the back vest that was covering her white blouse. Floral embroidery covered every inch of the vest and led down to a skirt that matched. The black floral apron covered a dark crimson apron underneath. Her hair was covered in silken headscarf that was long enough to weave multiple times around her tresses and hang down the sides of her head.

"Mmm," Titania purred. "She looks good dressed traditional, no?"

Viktor made no sound as he touched Hermione's jaw and the fabric of her dress. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. With a soft growl, he pulled her to him, tucking her under his chin and pinning her to his chest. "You are beautiful," he whispered.

Hermione meeped, sinking into him with a soft sound of protest, but there was no heart in it. She rubbed into his scent, which had somehow grown stronger in a matter of seconds.

Viktor's mother gave off a smug aura. "Get ready for dinner, children," she purred. "We have guests coming for dinner."

Viktor froze, his arm pinning Hermione to him with the power of his surprise. "Guests?"

"Mmm," Titania said vaguely. "I do hope you didn't pack your good clothes." His mother drifting up the staircase and disappeared like a wisp over the water.

Hermione looked at Viktor with wide eyes.

"I do not know vho she invited, Her-my-own," Viktor confessed. "Afraid to ask. Afraid to not ask."

"Is this normal?" Hermione asked meekly.

Viktor pulled her with him down the hall towards his room. "Vhen dealing vith my mother," he said. "Best to listen and obey. To do otherwise… not prudent."

"She seems so… caring," Hermione protested.

"Make no mistake," Viktor said as he pulled her into his room to begin digging around for something to wear that might match her outfit. "She is mother bear. Strong. Powerful. Protect her family to death…but has no problem cuffing errant cub upside head for being impertinent. Never in life… doubt her love for family. Even when she dragging me out of mud hole by my collar after getting in fight vith fellow student as child."

"You… got into a fist fight as a child?" Hermione blinked at him.

"I…" Viktor smiled awkwardly. "I was… angry child. Not always. Just sometimes… rise up like storm on high seas. Sudden and uncontrollable. He insult mother. I punch his face."

Hermione widened her eyes. "I'll admit, you don't seem the uncontrolled anger type, Viktor."

Viktor laughed. "Thankfully grew out of it. Once magic became regular and controlled, so did temper. Suddenly, I could see straight again."

Hermione chuckled. "So, you're saying you didn't have any drama during puberty?"

Viktor looked down at the floor and took a deep breath. "Not perfect record as young teenager, vill admit," he said. "Durmstrang at least, provide discipline and focus. Quidditch, actually, help vith both."

"Sounds like Ron could use a little more Quidditch in his life," Hermione chuckled.

Viktor grinned as he pulled on his dress slacks and tucked in his dress shirt. "Not bad idea, after seeing him at his vorst." He smiled at her as he pulled on an overcoat and shrugged. "Alvays feel like peacock dressed like dis."

Hermione giggled. "Technically… you are part peacock…"

Viktor shot her a glance and a low growl. "Show you peacock," he rumbled, pouncing on her, shifting in a blur of movement.

Hermione gave an eagle squeak as she shifted with him and they tumbled across the hardwood floor in a flurry of fur, feathers, talons, and paws. Viktor play gnawed on her wing. Hermione chewed on his peacock tail. They tumbled into a pile over a lone rug and panted, then resumed tumbling across the floor.

There was a knock at the door and the both of them froze in the mid-tumble, craning their necks to look towards the door.

Titania poked her head in. "Guests are here, children, try not to come to the dinner table with feathers in your hair." She disappeared, not phased in the slightest.

The simurgh and the gryphon exchanged glances as they shifted back into human forms.

"Your mother knew…?" Hermione began.

"She does now," Viktor said matter-of-factly.

"And… she…" Hermione stumbled over what to say.

"Now she know you just like me and brothers," Viktor said sheepishly. "Mother never was one for… blind hysterics."

"She's utterly unflappable," Hermione said with awe.

"She Bulgarian vitch and matriarch of family," Viktor said as he combed her hair into place with his hand. "Come vith territory."

"I guess now we get to make our appearance," Hermione said with a sigh.

Viktor straightened his collar and extended his arm to her.

Hermione placed her arm in his and allowed him to guide her to the dining room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed. "Dad!"

Hermione rushed over to embrace her parents as they stood from the table to return her hug.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Granger said with a laugh. "You look positively gorgeous this evening. Wherever did you get that outfit?"

"I believe I am to blame," Titania admitted from across the table. "Please do not think she mismanaged her summer spending money."

Mr. Granger gave Titania a small bow. "That was very generous of you, Lady Krum."

"Now, now," Titania waved her hand. "Let there be no titles here between our families. I am happy you were able to accept our invitation."

"I'll admit," Mr. Granger said. "I've never been yanked across the continent by touching something before. It is definitely something I'll remember forever."

"I hear you are doctors in the world without magic," Tihomir said as he cut the roast and began to pass the plates around.

"Dentists, actually," Mrs. Granger clarified. "We specialise in teeth."

"Teeth!" Tihomir exclaimed. "How wonderful. I happen to like having teeth!"

Dinner lasted through many courses with Tihomir serving the food. Talk was cheerful and casual, and Hermione squeezed Viktor's hand under the table in relief that her parents were getting along so well with Viktor's parents.

Viktor smiled at her as if he had never had any doubts, and if he had, in fact, thought otherwise, he did not give it away.

By the time dinner was over, dessert had passed, and after dinner coffee was drank, it seemed that the Grangers and the Krums were perfectly happy in each other's company, and both Titania and Tihomir had made appointments to have their teeth cleaned at a future date.

The Grangers hugged their daughter with smiles before saying their goodbyes for the evening, pausing only to gain the promise from the Krums to take good care of their daughter.

As Hermione watched her parents get pulled away by the port-key with Tihomir and Titania as escorts, she let out a large sigh of relief. "I'm so glad went well."

Viktor smiled at her, rubbing her shoulder with his hand. "Ve should sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Hermione nodded. "Sleep sounds really good right now."

"I put extra towels and soap in guest bathroom for you," said Viktor. "Byal vasn't sure vhat you like, so I pick."

"You are wonderful," Hermione said, giving him a hug.

"Am… eternal… servant," Viktor said with a smile, bowing to kiss the top of her hand.

As Viktor pulled away Hermione's face was filled with emotion, and she tackled him with a lung crushing hug. He staggered, wrapping his arms around her as he pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, his lips parted as he tasted her scent as it rolled into the back of his mouth. His eyes closed as his hand closed around her head and pressed it against himself tighter.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry woke groggily from his bed when Hedwig landed on his bed linens and sank into his duvet cover with a rush of white feathers, making her look like she'd just landed in the cloth equivalent of quicksand. Her head bobbed slightly as she scolded him for being asleep when she had dutifully brought the mail he had been waiting for.

He patted around blindly on his bedside table, hoping to find his glasses. After a few minutes of finding everything but his glasses, he finally managed to find them and put them on his face where they belonged. Realising he was indeed blind without his glasses, after finding out he'd been fumbling around trying to untie Hedwig's leg when she was holding a postcard in her beak, he sighed an apology to the poor owl as he took the postcard.

Hedwig hooted at him like an unhappy mother that seemed akin to Molly Weasley's area of skill. Harry quickly found an owl treat in the drawer next to the bed and offered it up as a peace offering to the disgruntled owl before reading the postcard.

Dear Harry,

Bulgaria is so much more vast and exciting than one postcard picture can tell, but I thought you'd like to see this mountain portal they call a "wonderful bridge." Long ago, it used to be part of a cave, but now, it's like a giant window into the forest beyond. There are many of these, but this one was one of the best. The surrounding area is treacherous, but they built one small footpath to get to it.

Viktor's family has been very kind to me and impeccable hosts. My parents came to visit as well, and I can tell they feel much better about their daughter being off visiting Bulgaria. They even convinced Viktor's parents to come and get their teeth cleaned! Can you believe it?

I hope you are having a wonderful summer with Sirius. Please tell him I said hello.

Running out of room on this postcard.

Love,

Hermione

P.s. The next time you send Hedwig with orders to peck me until I send back news, make sure to add that I have enough news to send back with her first or something, or next time I'm going to bury you in Bulgarian newspapers and Tasmanian Chomping Chests!

Harry gulped and eyed Hedwig regretfully. He could just see his friend strapping a parcel of hundreds of compressed Bulgarian newspapers stuffed into a Tasmanian Chomping Chest that would literally spit them them all out on him and the proceed to bite him on the arse and chase him around the room. He made a mental note to be more specific about the conditions of having Hedwig nip Hermione for news during future endeavours.

Putting the postcard on his bed stand, he smiled before he took off his glasses again. Setting his head down on the pillow once more, he was asleep within seconds.

Hedwig turned her head to look at the sleeping lump in his bed and whistled softly, seeming to sigh before she closed her eyes and went to sleep as well.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione yawned beakily as she stretched out over the stone outcrop overlooking the sea. Viktor had brought her to one of his favourite places on the Black Sea Coast— a place that had strangely remained mostly untouched by the feet of human travellers. Perhaps it was the jutting cliffs protected by swelling seas, or perhaps it was simply how unstable the rock was to the pattering of human feet… it was hard to say, but there was no path to get to where they were. They had flown there under the cover of night and set up a tent in a cave that was even by itself, beautiful to behold.

Viktor had taught her how to charm the area and set up wards to make sure they were not noticed by curious and random Muggles, which she absorbed with great enthusiasm. She could not, unfortunately, cast them under-aged without setting off her trace, but she glad to learn them for the future.

Viktor's mother had packed her a "saddle bag" of important items for their trip that included not only a multiple room tent complete with amenities, but plenty of preserved food in case they found themselves in a place where hunting would bring too much attention to themselves, as well as an emergency port-key if they found themselves in trouble and needed to come home quickly. The woman literally thought of everything, and Hermione couldn't help but feel quite a bit of admiration for the Krum matriarch.

They had travelled to many places, both magical and mundane, and each place imprinted itself on Hermione's mind as significant. Every night they curled up together in a tangle of wings, feathers, and fur, enjoying each other's company.

Whenever she found a significantly memorable view or monument either natural or man-made, she would close her eyes and send the mental picture to Severus, feeling the familiar warmth of his mind as he shared her travels vicariously through his apprentice. The approval of her Master only made each place seem all the more special, but a part of her hoped that one day, he could see the places with her in person. He seemed content, however, in sharing her experiences second hand, and there was a genuine sense of warmth that came from him every time she shared a place with him along with her excitement. Sometimes they would come upon a rare ingredient, and Hermione would dutifully bottle some up for the future, knowing it would help both her Master and Viktor and his brothers in their new shop.

Hermione yawned again as Viktor padded in close to her and flopped against her, snuggling into her body as he lay his head across her neck. He yawned toothily with a soft whine and gently groomed her for a time before he settled in for sleep, wrapping his tail around Hermione's body like a quilt.

Hermione relaxed against him as Vik burrowed in between them in his accustomed "sleeping spot" between their heads, his little wings draping in a way that seemed to bridge the two of them together.

By the time the moon had reached its zenith, the pair were already fast asleep, lulled into slumber by the sounds of the surf below and all around them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chuckle a little (and I mean no disrespect, truly) when people comment that they want my chapters to be longer because my beginning ones were so long. A person can only sustain that kind of writing with a lot more time than I have when I'm not in the middle of a nice break. I can only write when all the other things paying the bills and classes are done. Sorry folks. As the disclaimer said at the beginning. I'm not making any money off this. I'm happy you're enjoying the story, but I'm sadly, only human. Heh. Believe me when I tell you, the only reason I seem to be putting out lately with regularity is due to regular insomnia (which I highly do not recommend for inspiration!) I suppose I could just "save up" scenes until they add up to something with a high word count, but that really isn't my style. I do not usually post anything under a thousand words, as it is, so I'd like to think I have some standards. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the second summer interlude.


	35. Summer Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets a postcard.  
> Hermione explores the Sky Brother's new store.  
> Severus introduces the Pack to the Herd.

Chapter 35: Summer Interim III

Draco woke groggily to a miniature hippogriff chirping to his face. The little creature ruffled his wings at him and stood on top of a postcard, dutifully delivered in the dead of night.

"Hey, little guy," Draco greeted sleepily, pulling the hippogriff and the postcard under the bed linens with him.

Vik gave a surprised chirp, but snuggled into his chest happily, head-butting in to his chin, and generally loving over Draco as only something small, winged, and adorable could do.

Draco's hand reached out to the bed stand and snatched a small stone from it. He whispered a word and it started to glow softly, illuminating area under his blankets so he could examine his prize.

The postcard was a beautiful picture of the sea with moving surf crashing against the stone arches created by centuries of pounding water.

D,

Kept an eye on her as you requested. She's far too boring to even rate writing, but at least this post card looked interesting. Hasn't met up with any of her mud-blood loving friends. She just stares at rocks and stupid flowers every day. You owe me big for this. Three months of my summer I could have been vacationing in Rome. As it is, maybe I'll get to meet up with my family next weekend for some roasted hog and a some beer with my brothers. I at least miss their sorry faces, unlike yours.

A.

Draco smiled as he read the postcard, patting Vik with a soothing gesture over his wings. The little hippogriff chirped softly, bumping into his hand with enthusiasm.

Hermione had been sneaky in the case the postcard was seen by anyone other than him. There was always the chance that his mother might find it and that would get back to his father soon after. Appearances had to be kept. So instead of a happy note about her activities, she wrote to him like a disgruntled third party.

She was saying that she had been keeping her eye out for trouble over the summer, but so far there hadn't been anything significant where she was. She'd managed to find quite a few nice ingredients while she was out travelling, and the time was going by fast. Most importantly, she was going to visit Hogsmeade next weekend with her Sky Brothers, and she was inviting him to attend if he could get away. Regardless, she missed him and was sorry she couldn't write more.

Draco grinned. It was amazing what could be said with words that pointed the normal reader in another direction entirely.

Vik chirped as Draco doused the rock light and slipped the postcard into the book on the bed stand. He cradled Vik to his chest under the warmth of the covers and closed his eyes, enjoying the scent of the sea and his sister that clung to the hippogriff's body. Vik showed no sign of disapproval or driving need to depart. He snuggled into Draco's embrace as the young wizard fell back to sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"This place is even more gorgeous than when I visited before!" Hermione exclaimed as she looked around the renovated shop.

The inside of the shop was decorated like an olden time apothecary and general store. There was a beautiful mahogany counter towards the back that circled around many cabinets composed of countless drawers in which to store ingredients and small items of interest. There were fine glass doors protecting shelves for vials and jars of various sizes and shapes. Some were already filled and labelled. Some remained empty, waiting to be filled.

Wooden shelves lined with jars of preserves filled the front of the store, while side shelves had variety of wild-harvested items such as dried foods and fresh varieties preserved with a stasis spell.

There were different types of dried sausages, fish, and wild game hanging from ceiling mounted trellises. Nearby were shelves of various cooking, pickling, and preserving spices that gave the store a pleasant overall scent.

"You put this together so fast!" Draco boggled as he looked through many of the items. "It's so impressive!"

"Had a deadline to meet," Aleksander said with a grin.

"Da, and he's been slave-driving us to hunt for stock for the store," Petya and Valko complained.

"And who has been preparing the foods you bring back and organising store?" Aleksander asked, cuffing his brothers upside the head. "Not Grandfather Frost, I tell you dat."

Hermione laughed. "I've missed you all."

"Missed you too, sestrá," Lazar said with a grin. "We saved you and Viktor spot in store to put figurines. There in window."

Hermione touched all of the fine stone and wood in the window. All of it was perfect for a little fun with transfiguration and old fashioned carving. The bird brothers had really outdone themselves while she and Viktor had been travelling together.

Mixed in with the raw materials were all the saved figurines she had made over the last year practising her drills for Professor McGonagall. They had saved them all. Small sea serpents, unicorns, horses, squirrels, beavers, capercaillies, turtles, otters, mud lobsters, squirrels, and a virtual herd of winged horses that looked like Hermione had shrunk down all of Beauxbaton's carriage horses were all decorating the window shelf.

Already, Viktor had animated one of the unicorns to prance around the window. A handful of winged horses fluttered back and forth from one side of the window to the other, and an otter and a sea serpent played together in the water fountain set in the window.

"You like?" Viktor asked as he approached from behind her. He placed his chin on her shoulder.

"I love them," she said with a genuine smile. "I had no idea you had kept all my practice sculptures.

"Of course I keep them," Viktor said with a huff. "They were well done."

Draco picked up one of the animated horses and smiled. "You both create a pretty adorable construct." The winged horse pranced up his arm and stood on his shoulder, flapping its wings and neighing.

Viktor smiled. "None of them are as… complex as hippogriff," he said. "But they all have basic interactions.

"Probably a good thing," Severus' voice broke into the mix. "I'm not sure the world is ready for more than one obnoxiously cute and highly functional mini hippogriff."

"Master!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to hug Severus with enthusiasm. She leapt upon him like an sentient burr, latching herself to his robes as if they were mated Velcro from the Muggle world. Vik shot out from her hair and twittered at him excitedly and landed on his shoulder, chirping sweetly.

Severus staggered slightly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward as his arms enfolded his exuberant Apprentice, allowing her indulgence and affront to his person. His hand gently stroked her hair. She beamed up at him adoringly and smashed her face into his robes, taking in his scent and practically rolled herself over his chest in order to impregnate his scent all over herself once more— the scent of family and the scent of home.

Draco, perhaps less comfortable with abasing himself to Severus in such a blatant manner in front of potential teasing witnesses, pressed himself against Severus with slightly less enthusiasm, but he too indulged in a slightly more subtle rubbing of his face against his godfather's robes.

"The laboratory is set up," Severus said with a sniff, ruffling both Hermione's and Draco's hair with his hands before he pried them off his robes so he could walk properly. "I wrote a list of the ingredients you should probably stock regularly and a second list of the ingredients you should have around in token amounts for special need use."

"What's this third list, Uncle?" Draco said, picking up a third piece of parchment.

"A perfect world wish list," Severus said with a smirk. "That I fully expect never to be fulfilled."

Aleksander laughed. "Do not be so sure, Master Snape," he chuckled. "Unlike most shops, the owners of dis one have many talents."

Lazar put his arm around Aleksander's shoulder. "Ve also want you to be at home here."

"And have many more reasons to insure you happy and stay with us," Petya said with a grin.

"Stay?" Hermione squeaked.

"Come, sestrá," Aleksander said excitedly, pulling Hermione to the stairs. "Come see your room. You too, Draco."

The flame-haired Bulgarian dragged Hermione up the stairs as she squealed, and Draco dashed up the stairs after with excitement.

Viktor bowed his head to Severus as the others disappeared up the staircase to the private quarters. "Am honoured you accept our invitation to be partner in business," he said softly. "Ve are lucky and honoured to have."

Severus closed his eyes a moment and then opened them, looking Viktor in the face. His face was impassive, but his black eyes did not have the coldness of occlusion in them. "Someone has to keep you from blowing up your laboratory like the Weasley twins"

Viktor grinned broadly. "Your laboratory now, Master," he said. "Let Petya stay in kitchen to blow tings up. His speciality."

Severus raised a brow. "Hopefully not to sell."

"No," Viktor said with a nod. Petya get his own kitchen to blow up in back and is in charge of smoker. Aleksander in charge of real one… for anything requiring pre-planning and flavor." His eyes twinkled with mischief managed. He pulled out a small box from his pocket and tapped it with his wand, making it larger. He handed it to Severus carefully.

Severus set the large box on the counter opened the box carefully, lifting the wood lid with his pale fingers that acted like spider legs crawling along the lid. The box opened with a creak, exposing bottle after bottle of collected ingredients he and Hermione had gathered throughout their summer travels. Severus ran his hand a cross the bottles as if to confirm their actual presence.

Little Vik flew down from his shoulder and inspected the jars, fluttering his wings excitedly as he chirped his approval.

"You were very thorough," Severus said softly, reverently touching the labels with the tip of his index finger.

Viktor gave him a smug smile. "Her-my-own very diligent taskmaster," he said. "No idea where she get it from."

Severus snorted, shooting Viktor a smirk of his own as he carried the box of various reagents down a hidden corridor into his new laboratory. He emerged a few minutes later and waved his hand, causing a door to slide closed as well as a set of shelves making it look like part of the store wall. There was a surge of magic as multiple wards slammed into place.

"Store not even open yet," Viktor chuckled. "You vaste no time protecting."

"Says the man who charmed four statues to protect the store," Severus counted with a lifted eyebrow.

Viktor waved his hands as he blushed. "You one who challenged Apprentice to make life-sized sculptures of an Orthus, chimera, manticore, and minotaur."

"You, Viktor," Severus said, aiming one pale finger at him, " are the one who refused to let her revert them back into boulders and charmed them to life."

Viktor attempted his best halo look, which may have actually worked had it been aimed at anyone but Severus Snape. "Okay, okay. Guilty. I admit," Viktor chuckled.

Severus' eyes slid over to look at the two-headed dog with the serpent tail sitting in the corner looking like any well-detailed sculpture. Hermione had named it Orthus after the "child" of Echidna and Typhon from Greek Mythology from which it had been based. Hermione had gone through a life-size sculpture making phase while working on her meditations, and every night he had given her a different "beast" to focus on. While there had been many sculptures due to many nights of meditation, Hermione had not shown any emotional attachment to them like she had for Little Vik. The little hippogriff remained her most endearing construct.

The surviving sculptures, however, had all been creatures that were much like Viktor and Hermione— beasts that combined multiple animals. Viktor adored them and begged her not to destroy them. Severus had wondered where Viktor was going to find places for them, but the Bulgarian had only grinned, shrunk them down to be portable, and scurried off with them without a further word.

Until Severus had come to help set up the store earlier in the summer, he had not thought about the sculptures…that is, until a full-sized manticore pinned him down to the floor and licked his face and purred so loudly that the floor rumbled underneath him. Viktor, as was his talent, had charmed each of the store guardians to know exactly who their most important people were. Severus had apparently already made the list, which he was probably never more grateful for as a manticore was "happily" nuzzling him mercilessly into the floorboards of the shop.

For the most part, the guardian statues remained in place and unmoving as to not give away their nature to casual inspection. Their little "brothers and sisters" in the shop window did all the moving and fluttering about for them with their obnoxiously charming and very disarming manners.

There was a shudder in the store wards, and Viktor and Severus froze in place, Viktor waved his hand towards the storefront, insuring that the store was darkened from outside viewers. Severus instantly disillusioned them both.

:Master?: Hermione was touching his mind immediately, sensing the wards snap into place.

:Be still,: he commanded. He could see the eyes glowing on all the statuaries in the store.

Almost instantly all sound in the store vanished, his command relayed to those upstairs in the living quarters with startling efficiency. Hermione's presence took up her place against his mind with the familiar warmth that both offered support and silently asked for his. He soothed her automatically, even as his eyes narrowed and he watched the store window suspiciously.

Lucius Malfoy walked in front of the large storefront window, staring into the gloom with no enthusiasm. Severus could tell he wasn't specifically looking to find anything in the closed store, but he was glad Viktor's immediate response had been to make it look even less ready to open than it was.

Lucius turned away and continued to walk past, apparently off to do business of his own at some other place.

Viktor and Severus watching him go, moving towards the window slowly to keep a wary eye on the elder Malfoy's whereabouts. The blond wizard made his way to the Hog's Head Tavern and disappeared.

"Man make horrible spy," Viktor commented as he relaxed. "Hair stand out like bear at fashion show."

Severus gave Viktor a look that asked "and you would know this how?" mixed with "you're probably right about the former."

Viktor gave a gallant shrug.

:Do we need to trail him?: Hermione's direct and to the point question pinged off his mind.

:No,: Severus answered. :I know what he is going there for already. There is something we need to do before the term begins again. Grab the bag on the second shelf to the right in my quarters upstairs. My wards are the same.:

:Yes, Master,: came her reply as there was the sound of quiet shuffling from upstairs.

Severus turned to Viktor who was looking at him intently, suspecting he was talking with Hermione in the "silence."

"We have a matter of diplomacy to attend to," Severus explained. "It must be now, before the term starts. You and your brothers should probably join us."

Viktor inclined his head. "Then we will attend."

Severus found himself surprised, yet again, that there was no argument, only acceptance. Unable to find words fitting for the situation he found himself in, he bowed his head in acknowledgement as Viktor scurried up the stairs to gather his brothers.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus stood tall in the clearing in the Forest with Hermione on one side and Viktor on the other as gryphon and simurgh. Around Hermione's neck was Draco, curled multiple times around her neck, half buried in her feathers. He was not completely hiding, but his body wove casually in and out of her neck feathers like an adornment rather than a living thing. Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya perched in the trees nearby, still save for the movement of their feathers in the forest breeze.

They stood there silently without moving for quite a few minutes before the footfalls signalled that company was treading their way. As the dark shapes of man and horse materialised in the dimness of the forest, Severus bowed his head respectfully, placing his hands on Hermione and Viktor's withers, pressing his fingers into their feathers and fur in a gesture of comfort for them and peace for the centaurs.

Viktor and Hermione, tense but trusting Severus' touch, slowly dropped into a respectful bow, dipping their heads over their front legs as the centaurs approached.

"You come early this year, Owl Master Snape," a low voice said as he broke from the group of centaurs. The others had weapons out, but they did not draw them. "And you bring quite the quite the honour guard."

Severus straighted but inclined his head to the main centaur. "You as well, Magorian," he said softly. "I am glad to see your colony has been doing well."

"We have kept most of the human annoyances out of our territory," Magorian said simply. "And there have not been many youths in the last year encroaching in the forest that have not had acceptable reason to be."

"Your tolerance of the students is well appreciated," Severus replied.

"They are young," Magorian replied. "Even we centaur know tolerance to the young of whatever species. Some of us are better skilled at tolerance than others." Magorian jutted his chin out towards a centaur on the edge of his entourage. Firenze bowed his head respectfully towards Severus, but did not approach while the colony leader was parlaying.

Severus nodded. "I believe I have been learning my own kind of tolerance as well, Magorian. You may find this amusing."

Magorian gave a smirk that turned into a smile. "I never thought to see anyone stand at your side, save Dumbledore, and he… always speaks one thing and means another. What brings you to our home without the silver-tongued wizard?"

"I come to honour our agreement," Severus replied. "I did not forget."

"Few remember agreements with beasts during times of peace," Magorian grunted. "Usually, they remember us… when time of war comes to carry them away into the night under the stars."

"We both know that being a beast does not make one less of an ally, Magorian," Severus replied. "Nor do our promises expire when they are no longer convenient."

Magorian lifted his chin and nodded. "You are correct, Owl Master," he said deeply. He seemed to ponder something before taking a deep breath, his sides heaving as though he had run a long distance. "What bring you?"

Severus shrugged a bag off his shoulder and extended the satchel to Magorian. The centaur took it carefully and undid the buckle.

"Flint and metal for our arrows, but not pre-shaped to insult our own methods. I am glad you remember such details," Magorian said with a sniff. "Quality crystals for our divination, cloth for both bandages and wraps, hide glue and sinew for our bows, liniment for our aches, and healing paste for those whose injuries keep them from using our traditional herbs. You honour us by not insulting our ways, Owl Master. It has always been so, but I am glad it has not changed."

Severus nodded.

"The winds are shifting, Owl Master," Magorian looked up towards the sky through the trees. "But none of us can say for sure what comes when the winds stop. I can see you have found family where once you were a star that walked the heavens alone. Now, you are a star whose planets faithfully orbit. This is no small thing to us, nor should it be to you."

"It is not, Magorian," Severus replied, his hands stroked Hermione's feathers, Viktor's fur, and Draco's scales with practised care.

"You and your family are welcome in our lands, Owl Master Snape," Magorian said finally. "Whether for safety or to hunt. Show us now, your other faces, that we may recognise you on the fields of battle and know our allies from our enemies."

Severus removed his hands from their withers.

Draco slipped off Hermione's neck and took his human form, bowing. Hermione and Viktor followed suit, and all four elemental birds drifted in from the trees and did the same.

Magorian came in close, circling Severus and his charges with heavy hoof beats. He jutted his chin and gestured with his head, and the entire herd of centaurs came over to circle them. "Now," Magorian said, "take your true forms and take in the scent of my herd, so you may know us in peace and in war, in the forest or out.

:True form, Master?" Hermione boggled into Severus' mind.

:For the centaur, my Apprentice,: Severus explained, :Our human form is the animagus form. Our beast is our true form. Our soul. The truest expression of who and what we are.:

Hermione fell into her gryphon shape with new knowledge as Viktor and her Sky Brothers changed as well. Draco shifted and wove around her neck once more, setting his head on hers. She leaned into Severus with her head, garnering his touch before she walked around the centaur herd and pressed her head to each centaur's hand, taking in their scent and memorising it as Draco tasted the scents with his flicking tongue. Viktor did the same as Hermione, while Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya landed on extended arms as the centaurs brought them closer to their head and allowed them to scent their hair.

Finally, when the ritual was done, Magorian seemed satisfied. "We welcome our allies into our Home," he said formally. "May the stars forever guide your path and the ground never fail beneath your feet as our allies shall never fail us."

Severus repeated the formal words with a bow.

"You may tell your Dumbledore that we will not bring harm to your school's children in whatever manner appeases him, Owl Master," the elder centaur said with a tilt of his head. "You may tell him we enjoyed the fruit basket or whatever thing you see fit to make up." Magorian's smirk let it be known that every year's "negotiation of terms" had been creatively modified as to how it was actually brokered.

Severus nodded.

"The half-giant has been strangely absent this summer," Firenze said, stepping out of the herd at last. "It concerns us because he is normally walking through the forest regularly. His hut fire has been cold many nights."

Severus frowned. "I did not realise he was away. Albus did not tell me anything."

"Be careful, Severus," Firenze cautioned. "Whatever is brewing has even the planets confused."

"Thank you for the warning, Firenze," Severus said with a bow of his head.

Magorian snorted and tossed his head, and the herd filtered back into the forest like ghosts.

Severus closed his eyes, touching Hermione on the head and soothed her feathers as his other hand massaged Viktor's large ears. "Meet back at the shop, everyone."

And with that, they took to the air and headed back towards Hogsmeade.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That night, for the first time, the strangely assembled animagus family slept together on a large cushion in the middle of their shared living room, deciding to eschew their separate rooms on this particular occasion.

Hermione and Viktor snuggled up together as per their usual routine, but Draco wove himself between Viktor and Hermione's interlocked wings. Vik wedged himself between their heads as usual as Severus roosted in between Hermione and Viktor's touching withers. All four elemental birds perched nestled in the area near Hermione's furred belly where her wing folded over them and Viktor's massive tail folded over her wing.

As the sounds of their combined soft snores claimed each bird, serpent, and beast, it was then, and only then, that the dark owl roosting between Hermione's and Viktor's withers closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him at last.


	36. Not So Pretty in Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dementors attack Muggles.  
> Remus confesses that the Marauders were not exactly angels.  
> Umbridge arrives at Hogwarts.  
> Minerva gives Hermione some very Slytherin advice.

**Chapter 36: Not So Pretty in Pink**

The end of summer rushed in like the returning tide, tumbling students and parents down the aisles of Diagon Alley like fleeing crabs on the shoreline of some distant beach. Students rushed to and fro each store, scooping up school supplies, and moving on to the next place to do the same.

First years bumped into elder students. Parents bumped into other parents. Baffled Muggles met “pure-bloods” and social orders were discovered, made, remade, and cast aside accordingly. It seemed though, at least to those who had experienced the years before, that there was more tolerance in the student body in inducting the first year students into their roles as students at Hogwarts.

Scary headlines were making it difficult to not sneeze and have a Death Eater be blamed only to have some Ministry official pop out of a flowerpot and proclaim, “We have it all under control, citizens! Go back to your wool gathering!”

One headline, however, caused a murmur of gossip to graduate into a full-blooded roar.

Dementors Search Muggle Subdivision and Attack Family! Victims Left Traumatised By “Invisible” Attackers!

Dementors were the questionable tools of the Ministry ever since they almost sucked the soul out of an innocent man. Anything that seemed to indicate that the dementors were not under the Ministry’s control was lighting a fire where the Ministry did not want fire burning. Sadly, if they did get everyone to believe that all the dementors were under control, then they had to explain to countless people why said dementors just “took a stroll away from Azkaban to drop in for tea in a Muggle subdivision.”

“It was like all the happiness in my life was leaving me!” a Muggle testified to one of our undercover Wizarding reporters. “All that was left was every miserable thing I didn’t want to remember. The air was so cold, the windows of the house frosted over.”

“I woke up in the hospital and no one could tell me how I got here,” another victim of the same house said. “I just remember it being as cold as winter.”

Thankfully, no other families were affected and no lasting physical or mental damage has been to the unfortunate Muggle family. The Ministry refuses to comment on the matter other than to say that the situation is being looked into and it weren’t for the lunatic ravings of madmen such as ex-Auror Alastor Moody and supporters such as Albus Dumbledore, they wouldn’t be distracted chasing false calls about non-existent Death Eaters and spreading themselves thin in the wrong areas.

Concerned parties, however, are expressing rightful concern that if the Ministry is “too spread out” to know what their dementors are doing that perhaps the problem isn’t with ex-Aurors and the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

Harry tossed the paper to Ronald as he gave a fitful yawn. “I’m not sure why I read the paper,” Harry bemoaned. “Before, it was all a bunch of rubbish because of Rita Skeeter. Now, it’s just depressing because people won’t believe the truth.”

“Most people believe what they want to believe, Harry,” Lupin said with his own yawn as he pulled his coat over himself due to the chill by the window. “At least they aren’t writing all of that drivel about Sirius every day anymore.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “I had a wonderful summer. Part of me wishes I could have stayed having a wonderful summer instead of facing that everyday,” he said as he pointed at the rolled up paper.

Hedwig chirped commentary, which unfortunately inspired Pigwidgeon to twitter like he’d gone completely mental in his cage.

Angry hippogriff chirping came from Hermione’s hair, and Hermione stirred slightly as she shifted her position on the bench. She was asleep again, however, in a matter of seconds, passed out against Ginny after their marathon sharing session that seemed to compress ninety days and nights of information into twenty minutes. Harry privately wondered if this was some skill unbeknown to males. The price of the skill seemed to be a serious sleep attack afterwards. Neither Ginny or Hermione seemed to mind in the slightest.

“Oi! Pig! Shut it!” Ron rattled the cage as Pigwidgeon fluttered around chattering like he was on fire. “I swear to Merlin I’m going to use you to dust the lights in the Tower, starting with your face!”

Lupin snorted. “I’ve never seen such a hyper owl, Ron,” he chuckled.

“I blame Ginny for naming him Pigwidgeon,” Ron muttered.

“Shouldn’t you be blaming Sirius for giving you him?” Lupin asked.

“I’m sure he would have been fine if he’d been giving a more dignified name,” Ron said with a scowl. “Instead of flying around like he’s bloody full of beans all day.”

Pigwidgeon fluttered around in his cage, trying to show off, making a racket.

Just as Ron was reaching out to rattle Pig’s cage again, Vik slammed into the cage and belted out a series of stern chirps. Pig froze on the bars of his cage, eyes gazing at the hippogriff. Vik took off, darting back into Hermione’s hair with a chirp of finality.

“Well, there you go, Ron,” Remus said. “That’s how it’s done.”

Pig remained frozen on the side of cage, unwilling to move lest it bring down the wrath of a tiny yet strangely formidable hippogriff.

Ron stared at his owl’s cage with a mixture of resignation and fear. “Ever think that if Hermione was born into say… the Malfoy family, that we’d all be under You-know-who’s boot?”

Harry gave Ron an odd look. “You’re mental.”

Ron wobbled and looked upward. “No, really. I mean…” he said as he ruffled his own hair. “I mean, if fate had been different, we’d be fighting against her and Malfoy and… and Snape… and Vol… well him… all at the same time. If she can put that much detail and the fear of Merlin into that little flying menace, imagine what she could do if she wanted to hurt someone.”

Remus arched a brow at Ron as one would perhaps look at a rabbit that meowed. “Do you always include your friends, peers, and your teachers on the same list of potential enemies?”

Harry shoved Ron in the side with his toe. “Why would you even think about that, Ron? She’s our friend, not some stranger that fell off a cloud and landed in the cabbage patch with nothing but a hat and a howdy-do.”

It was Ron’s turn to look at Harry like he’d completely lost his mind.

Harry tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“Someone has been spending too much time with an inebriated Sirius,” Remus guessed.

Harry’s attempt to look innocent was a fine attempt, but fell flat on its face. He sighed. “I’m just saying, Ron, there are far more dodgy individuals out there than Hermione, and you know it.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t trustworthy now,” Ron tried again. “I’m saying, have you ever wondered what it would be like if things had been different? What is Snape was our Head of House instead of McGonagall? Or… Tom Riddle was Headmaster and Dumbledore was the one fighting against us?”

Harry shook his head. “Sirius says I need to stop blaming Snape for the bad things that keep happening,” he confessed.

“I thought he hated Snape,” Ron said with a furrowed brow.

“I did too,” Harry admitted. “But, Sirius said that it took him over thirty years to realise what a hypocrite he was when he was my age, and he doesn’t want it to be my story.”

“We did some horrible things at your age, Harry,” Remus said grimly. “Things that we can look back on now and not be proud of. All of us were guilty of it.”

“Even my father?” Harry said, hoping that Remus would immediately say no and defend him.

“Even your father, Harry,” Remus said. “I have no doubt, if he were here now, he would tell you the same.”

Harry hung his head. His mental image of his father was always a great man: someone to be proud of and someone he could be proud of.

“Harry,” Remus said gently. “We are all fallible people. Even the best of us. Sometimes we do things we’re not proud of. Sometimes we feed the dark in us, but if we are lucky we find all the right reasons to feed the light in us instead. Your parents loved you very much. You were their reason to feed the light.”

Harry smiled and nodded, regaining his high regard for his father, but with a little more realism thrown in.

The train compartment became suddenly cold, as if they had just opened a door into a blizzard. Harry, Ron, and Remus stiffened, eyes darting to the windows as they watched the windows growing cold. Their breath was puffing out in wisps of white vapour.

SPLAT!

A snowball slammed into the train compartment door as two students chased each other down the train’s outer walkway laughing and pelting each other with snowballs.

Remus relaxed, letting out a soft, relieved chuckle. “A little hair triggered, I think,” he admitted.

Harry leaned back on the seat and inhaled deeply. “Yeah. Me too.”

Ron took that moment to devour the chocolate frog he had been clutching in a death grip. “Think we have a chance at having a nice uneventful year at Hogwarts this year?”

Harry rolled his head to the side to stare at Ron. “I don’t think it’s even possible.”

“Aw, come on, Harry,” Ron complained. “What could possibly happen this year after the years we’ve had already?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Me and my big mouth,” Ron moaned as the woman Dumbledore had introduced as “Professor Umbridge” not only interrupted Dumbledore’s traditional speech and announcements at the front of the Great Hall, but also proceeded to but the majority of the Hall to sleep or to tears. Some may have argued the both were occurring simultaneously.

Hermione had a completely blank look plastered across her face, her eyes were dark and unreadable as she stared at Umbridge during her speech.

“I wonder what happened to Professor Moody,” Harry muttered. “I would have liked to have gotten to know the real one.”

“She looks she walked off my Gran’s cast-off not-on-your-life fashion pile,” Neville whispered.

“That much pink should be criminal,” Fred and George muttered together.

After what seemed like an eternity, Umbridge seemed to be satisfied with her speech and concluded it. There was some applause, but it seemed far more obligatory than actual approval. Even the professors at the High Table looked as though stabbing each other with their cutlery would have been a better use of the time they had just lost.

“For once, I think I agree with Snape,” Neville said, casting his eyes down.

Harry, Ron, and the twins looked up to the High Table where Snape was giving Umbridge’s back the kind of glare that curled paint, wilted flowers, and sent students hiding under their desks.

“Just don’t… tell him I said that,” Neville muttered, taking a big swig of the pumpkin juice in front of him.

“No problem there, Neville,” Harry agreed.

“I wonder what this means for Hogwarts?” Seamus asked softly.

“The Ministry is trying to interfere with Hogwarts,” Hermione said flatly, her eyes were still glued to the toad-like woman at the High Table. “It means we’re being watched.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You need to be extra careful now, Hermione,” Minerva said as she offered up some biscuits. “More careful than before, I believe you know that.”

Hermione took the cookie from the tin and nodded before making the tasty treat disappear.

“Umbridge is positively medieval,” Minerva said. “She’s of the opinion that education is to be done by the book and children are to be seen and not heard. I’m sure, if it were not for the fact she herself was female, she would support that only wizards were deserving of educations and witches belonged at home, tending families.”

“She doesn’t seem the type to be happy in a family setting,” Hermione said dryly, channelling her Master in both tone and expression.

Minerva gave a small smile. “You would be correct. Please, Hermione, do your best to keep any of the students from getting on her… well all her sides are bad… spite list. She could make things much more difficult for us here.”

Hermione took in her breath and held it a moment before releasing. “I will try, Minerva.”

Minerva seemed to let out her breath she was holding for the past hour. “Good.

Hermione yawned and drew her hand over her mouth apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Quite all right, dear,” Minerva tutted. “It is time for bed anyway.”

Hermione rose from the chair, thanking Minerva for the cookies before turning to exit.

“Hermione,” Minerva called after her.

“Yes, Minerva?”

“Just because you cannot officially be up in her face, doesn’t mean you can’t… make things interesting,” Minerva’s head moved very much like a cat watching a bug on the wall.

Hermione gave Minerva her best halo look. “Professor McGonagall!” she exclaimed in mock-affront. “Who would do such a thing?”

Minerva smiled as Hermione shuffled out her door on her way back to the Gryffindor tower. “Who indeed,” she said quietly.

 


	37. Prove It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a thestral problem.  
> The Pack brings the Herd food for their larders.  
> The Pack must prove itself to Bane, who believes them wanting as allies.  
> Umbridge punishes Hermione for speaking out of turn.  
> Severus must pick up the pieces of Hermione after Umbridge's "punishment."

**Chapter 37: Prove it.**

Hermione had a thestral problem.

It wasn’t a locomotion problem. There were no more carriages to be pulled or any carriages even around to be pulled. Hermione didn’t need to go anywhere quickly by foot, nor did she need to fly anywhere out of reach, yet…

There was a young thestral lipping her hair curiously as she attempted to read from her textbook. There were people sitting around her showing absolutely no sign of knowing what was going on, why Hermione’s hair was seemingly picking up by itself and moving on its own, or how Hermione just suddenly keeled over onto the grass giggling hysterically as she flailed her hands and her book into “thin air.”

Hermione giggled as the young thestral snuffled her robes, seeking something it could smell. She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a piece of dried venison jerky from the shop and reluctantly passed it to the young thestral. The thestral colt whickered happily, chomping on the tidbit with enthusiasm.

“They’re really kind and gentle creatures,” Luna said as she swayed back and forth on her approach. “But I suppose, you’d know that better than most.”

Luna sat down across from, cradling her bag of books and a spare bag.

The thestral cold bounced over to her and bumped his head into her shoulder and bowled her down, causing Luna to pet the young thestral up and down his head and neck.

Hermione furrowed her brows at Luna. Luna was an enigma in many ways. Talented and brilliant, she was undoubtedly observant, but as if to balance out the vastness of her vision, her mind seemed to be as haphazardly organised as Ron Weasley’s sock drawer. If that wasn’t hard enough to translate, Luna tended to speak in her own kind of language. It used English as a base and then branched off into something that made little sense to anyone but her and perhaps her father.

Luna lay back on the grass as she fed the thestral a tidbit from her bag. “You’ve grown stronger, Hermione,” she said in her sing-song voice. “There’s hardly any evidence of Nargles on you this year.”

Hermione attempted to put on her best interested face. “That’s good, I hope.”

“Indeed it is,” Luna said, rocking back and forth in her own amusement. “At first I thought you finally took my advice and started wearing the charms, but it looks like you’ve found a way to get rid of them using a very complex family bond.”

“What?” Hermione tilted her head as she replied.

“Oh,” Luna said as if she completely expected Hermione to know what she was talking about. “You know, when you’re really close to people…usually it’s family, like twins or parent and child… there is this shared resonance. It connects you together. It binds you together and shares your magic. They are pretty rare, usually.”

Luna yawned sleepily as she stretched on the grass. She gazed up at the clouds casually.

“How is what I have… complex?” Hermione asked, genuinely curious to see what Luna saw in her own way.

“You have more than one,” Luna said lightly, patting the young thestral that was snuffling her face. “That confuses Nargles up pretty good. One would pretty much mess them up really well, but more than that guarantees they won’t be visiting you.”

Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m afraid I’m just not up on my Nargle behaviour, Luna.”

“That’s okay, Hermione,” Luna laughed as she sat up. “At least your shoes will be safe.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Hermione replied.

Luna smiled at her.

Hermione looked around and realised that everyone around them had left, apparently unnerved by Luna’s appearance enough to vacate the area. At least that kept their conversation private at the very least. Odd, but private.

Luna swung her torso back and forth as if she were swinging in the breeze. “There’s a new store open in Hogsmeade. I can’t wait to see it. I do hope they have pudding.”

Hermione tilted her head and made a mental note to ask Aleksander to cook up some puddings for Luna. Who knows… maybe they would become a “thing.”

“What’s your favourite, Luna?” Hermione asked.

“I do adore a good brandy butter pudding,” Luna replied. “Almond or chestnut is good when I need to chase away three-toed amberfits. I think do I have a soft spot for figgy pudding, though.”

Hermione decided not asking about what three-toed amberfits were was a wiser choice of action.

Luna stood up as a full-grown thestral gave the soft groaning call from inside the forest. The young thestral perked his head up and gave an answering call, trotting off towards the call. “I think it’s a wonderful day for a fly, don’t you think?” Luna said in her sing-song voice. “I’d love to have a nice pair of wings. Butterfly-wings perhaps or fairy wings even. You’re more of an eagle wing type I think, Hermione.”

Hermione arched a brow as Luna tore off up the hill back towards Hogwarts, holding her arms out like wings and flapping them as she ran.

“She right, you know,” Viktor’s voice said from behind her. He was leaning against a tree as he watched Luna “fly” back towards Hogwarts. “Is good day to fly.”

Hermione swirled around with a grin and rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around his body and pressing into him with a large sigh of relief.

Viktor pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder, breathing in deeply, taking comfort in her as much as she did with him. “Had to see you before you start,” he rumbled softly. “Is not the same when you not near.”

Hermione rubbed in his scent and smiled up at him. “How is the shop coming along?”

“Ready to open now,” Viktor said with relief. “Brothers are celebrating. Bringing a hunt to centaurs as token of well wishes.”

“I’m sure the centaurs do not mind having more food for their herd,” Hermione murmured into his shoulder.

“Most hunters would not,” Viktor agreed. “Ve should bring ours as well, to start off alliance on good footing.”

Hermione grinned at him. “You just want to get me in the air with you.”

“Da,” Viktor answered, unashamed. “I tink perhaps we try for large fish on coast. Our allies do not get to fish… would be someting different.”

“That’s a great idea, Viktor,” Hermione agreed. “If we get an especially large one, it could help their winter stores as well.”

Viktor grunted affirmative. “Good to keep allies strong. Since we can fly, is only logical.”

Hermione waved her wand to check the time. “I have a few hours before I have to be in class. My first class with… the pink menace.”

“Pink… menace?” Viktor said with a tilt of his head.

“Imaging the worst teacher you’ve ever had… multiple by 10, then dress them in pink sweaters,” Hermione said. “I haven’t had her in class yet, but I am… quite positive that she will be just as horrible as her beginning speech.”

Viktor looked horrified. “Let’s go hunt, before I lose stomach for it.”

Hermione chuckled and launched into the air with Viktor chasing her from behind. They flew quite a few miles out and upward before locking feet in a dive as the CRACK of apparition carried them away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The crack of the returning apparition alerted both the centaur herd and the elemental bird brothers as Viktor and Hermione slowly lowered a giant tuna into the small clearing where the centaurs were already preparing the many hunts Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya had flown in.

“Brother and sister terrible show off,” Aleksander scolded the two as they landed, wings beating wildly to set the gargantuan fish down without abusing it.

Viktor and Hermione released their grip on the slippery prize, coming to an exhausted landing beside it.

Young centaurs rushed up to poke the giant fish before their parents pushed them out of the way. Excitement grew through the clearing as the elder approached the two panting arrivals.

“Welcome, honoured allies, Hermione and Viktor, family of Owl Master,” Magorian said formally, letting those around him that had not been with him during the night introduction know exactly who they were. “We thank you for such generous hunts. Long has it been since we have faced winter with such a bounty.” He bowed his human torso head, spreading his arms in a flare as he did so.

Viktor and Hermione retook up their human shapes, bowing back to the elder centaur with respect.

“Come, sit with us by the fire, and we will share news,” Magorian said. “Let the young take care of your offerings

A virtual swarm of young centaurs descended upon the carcass of the fish, cutting away strips of meat off the bones and hanging them on the nearby racks and lines to smoke.

“That is efficiency,” Hermione boggled.

“We are a hunter and gatherer people,” Magorian said. “Speed and efficiency is the key to everything.”

“Magorian,” Hermione said tentatively. “I have a question for you, if you do not mind. I mean no offence by it.”

“Go on,” Magorian said as he went down by the fire, tucking his legs under him.

“Why is it most students do not even know you exist out in the forest?”

Magorian stroked his chin with his fingertips. “We are a territorial species, young Hermione,” Magorian replied softly and without anger. “We prefer to be hidden and unnoticed, lest we have to deal with prying eyes, curious questions, and people wishing to ogle at the “half-breeds.”

“Filthy humans thinking they can get on our backs like a common horse,” spat one of male centaurs.

“Mind your tongue, Bane,” Magorian snapped. “These are our honoured allies, not some common rabble from the school. It is because of them we do not have to overwork our hunters in preparation for the winter, and our young have ample practice in the preparation of our stores.”

“We do not need the meddling of some human whelps bearing magicked fish from the lake as some lazy offering to make our own hunters look bad,” Bane replied. His tone was challenging. Many of the centaurs around him shuffled out of his way, but whether it was out of respect of him or simple wish not to catch his ire was yet to be seen.

“Seeing as you did not see fit to join us when we met our allies the other night and were late to the gathering today, Bane, you obviously cannot see what is right in front of you,” Magorian snapped.

“All I see is a bunch of human whelps pretending to be hunters as if to impress us,” Bane sneered. “We have no use for pretenders.”

“There are no ordinary folk, Bane,” Firenze’s voice broke into the argument. “If you would see how the planets and stars swirl around them, you would know this to be true.”

“I do not need to see stars and planets to see a human,” Bane spat.

“Bane!” Magorian snapped. “You are as insufferable as you are blind. You would have our people insult the very hands that offer friendship and succour, something we are severely lacking, if you have not noticed. Do you expect that to change with such horrible demonstrations of spite?”

“Have them prove it! The old way, without wands. Strip their human tools away and tell me how they will fare,” Bane snarled back.

“You will not like the outcome, Bane,” Magorian said, standing up.

“Without their foolish human tools, they are nothing,” Bane scoffed. “They are but children. Less than one of our foals.”

The centaurs that had escorted Magorian to the meeting and parlay so many nights ago all shook their heads and stood by Magorian. It was only the ones that had joined the gathering late and not seen Hermione and Viktor and the bird brother arrive in their non-human forms that sent questionable murmurs into the crowd.

Hermione, who had been accosted by a young filly with a brush, was dutifully brushing out the burrs and mud from the young centaurs coat. The young centaur was gazing at her adoringly, stomping her feet in pleasure as the brush went across her back and in places she couldn’t quite reach on her own.

Bane pushed the young filly aside, rearing up on his hind legs to flail his forelegs out in threat, driving the filly to her dam. The filly squealed in fear, and hid from Bane in the crowd.

Viktor threw himself in front of Hermione, who was already showing signs of her own instinctive response to threat. Her hands were changing, hidden by Viktor’s bulk as he glared up at Bane, his mouth parted as a low growl came from his throat.

Bane scowled at the pair. “Prove it. I will trample you both into the dirt without your wands.”

“Enough!” Magorian snapped, rising to his feet. “Honoured guests, I apologise for his behaviour, and beg you humour him so this may be laid to rest once and for all. Please, surrender your wands so may educate him in what most of us already know.”

Bane looked completely arrogant as he thrust his hunting bow into a fellow’s hands, stomping into the ground in his anticipation.

Viktor, Hermione, and their brothers all gave their wands to Magorian silently. They all gave Magorian the look that asked “how far do you wish this to go?”

Centaurs formed a large circle around the clearing, parents shielding their children to the outside to keep them out of the way. The children, however, were bumping into their parents with curiosity, wishing to see the confrontation.

“You are an idiot, Bane,” Magorian scolded as he stepped back into the circle of other centaurs. “My only hope is that they leave enough of you left to be sorry.”

Bane snarled and rushed towards Aleksander, who waited until the last minute and leapt into the air, taking wing with his bird comrades in a flurry of fire, wind, earth, and mist, flying in a low circle around the clearing until the flames from his wings cast fire around the circle, Petya’s wind fed the flames into a wall, and Lazar’s wing beats spread a fog as thick as smoke.

“No wands,” Bane snarled.

“Their wands are here,” Magorian reminded him, showing the wants clutched in his hands.

Bane charged into the mist and smoke and saw Viktor standing still in the swirling vapours. He growled, charging towards him, making to trample him into the ground.

But Viktor waited. Hermione stepped to the side as Viktor took the form that was all out of peaceful understanding. He roared as his ferocious canine head twisted into a snarl. He leapt upon Bane’s back and clamped his jaws around Bane’s mane as his talons and claws scrambled for purchase on the centaur’s back.

Bane cried out in pain, and rolled, attempting to crush Viktor with his weight, as his legs kicked out and upward to dislodge his attacker. As if realising that he had bit off more than he could chew, Bane’s actions became less organised and more desperate. His human arms dug into the area around Viktor’s head and attempted to wretch his head off his neck.

The moment Viktor gave a yelp of pain, a blur of golden brown feathers and furious beak descended upon Bane with an eagle screech of hatred, her beak clacked loudly as it snapped inches away from his spine, his neck, and his now flailing arms. Talons flared from her forelegs and curved around his forelegs and digging into his flesh, pinning them down. Her wings flared as her rear legs pulled up like pistons and made to rake across his vulnerable underbelly as if he were nothing but prey. Fury and hatred filled her eyes her instinctual drive to protect those closest to her transformed into something more primal and ruthless. Her legs cocked into position, her claws spread to do what they were designed for.

And suddenly Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, Petya, and Viktor were pulling her off of Bane, pushing the irate gryphon off her prey with their bodies, their human arms and legs and bodies surrounding her with their embrace, their scents, and their reassurance. “Be at peace, sister,” they chimed. “It is done.”

Hermione struggled in their embrace as they forced pinned her against them, stroking her fur and feathers, and pressing their scents to her in the way they knew would reach her.

Viktor pinned her head under his arm, forcing her nostrils to breathe in his strong musk as his hand firmly stroked the side of her face and under her chin. “I’m okay,” he chanted. “Am okay. Promise. Am okay.”

Sanity seemed to creep back into Hermione’s tense body, and her body relaxed into Viktor’s and her sky brothers’ arms. Her eyes slowly lost their wildness. She leaned into her adopted family’s embraces as her breathing began to slow at last.

For a while, it seemed no one dared move. The centaurs out of respect for the battle, nor the brothers who did not want Hermione to forget herself again wished to see the fight come to a horrible end. Bane, who slowly pulled himself off the ground had lost the arrogant look he had worn only minutes before. He was limping from several wounds upon his body and blood trickled down his mane from where Viktor had clamped upon his mane in attempt to subdue him. Rivers of blood flowed down his legs where Hermione had grasped them in order to crank them out of her way in order to expose his belly as she would have a deer. It had only been the efforts of Viktor and his brothers that had kept Hermione’s lethal rake of rear claws from casting his bowels upon the forest floor, and it seemed that Bane realised this at last.

Bane hobbled over to Hermione, and Hermione tensed, her body lowering to the ground as she prepared to spring forward and finish what she had started. Her tail lashed back and forth furiously.

Bane stopped and bowed down on his forelegs painfully, forcing himself into a position of submission. He bowed both his horse half and his human torso. “I yield to you, honoured allies. Forgive me, my blindness. I will not question your right to hunt and be amongst us again.”

Hermione’s body relaxed visibly, and the arms around her released their death grip upon her body. Viktor’s hand remained upon her withers, mirroring the gesture Severus had used before. Hermione slowly bowed her head in response to his apology, echoed by her comrades.

Bane slowly rose to his feet again and backed up, allowing his fellows to tend his wounds.

After a few minutes, Hermione was relaxed enough to return to her human form, and she leaned into Viktor with both relief and regret for what she had almost done.

“Do not be regretful,” Magorian said as he returned their wands. “While most of us would like to think we are above such shows of violence, there are times when some of us need a forcible reminder of why we respect our alliances. It is my hope, however, that today’s show will impress upon our youth the strength of our allies and the power of their mercy.”

The little filly that had begged the attention of Hermione earlier sneaked back to her side, but this time she tugged on Hermione’s sleeve and begged her to return to her other form.

Hermione looked to Magorian for guidance, and he nodded. “Go ahead, she wants to.”

Hermione fell on all fours, dwarfing over the filly as her eagle gryphon form took her. The filly, now much more fearless, took her brush and stroked Hermione’s tawny fur, grooming her as carefully as Hermione had done to her earlier. The filly wrapped her arms around Hermione’s feathered neck and hugged her tightly, causing Hermione to give a soft eagle squeak .

The filly looked up at Viktor a little awed. She made a brushing motion with the brush in her hand at him. Viktor, slightly embarrassed, dropped on all fours as well, allowing the filly to draw the brush over his fur. She brushed the soft fur of his muzzle and neck and down his belly and legs, dutifully grooming his fur as Hermione used that opportunity to preen his feathers into order.

After the grooming session completed, Magorian seems satisfied. “Come, sup with us before you return. It is only fitting that you partake of some of what you have gifted us.” He used his head to gesture the herd, and the centaur moved at last, scurrying off to prepare for the meal and continue the preparations of the meat for the winter.

When it came time to leave, much to Hermione’s surprise, Bane approached. The attitude he had previously exuded was gone. It was if the fight, violent as it was, set things to order, and the conflict he had in his mind was set to rights, bringing out a change that sent a peace through him.

Bane lowered himself on his forelegs, now bandaged with supportive wraps and liniment. “Allow me to take you back to Hogwarts, Hermione,” he said softly. “Is my shame and my honour to carry you.”

Hermione looked conflicted. “Your legs…”

“My legs will tolerate the burden of my own mistakes,” he answered. “Allow me to purge my disrespect by carrying you home.”

Hermione looked to both Viktor and Magorian for direction, unsure what the proper thing was to do. She had injured him, and that part of her mind did not think that climbing on his back was the proper thing to do afterwards. Centaurs notoriously did not accept riders on their backs because it was a sign of servitude, and exceptions to this was few and far between.

Viktor gave her a hug goodbye as her brothers did as well. Magorian simply inclined his head in approval and went back to directing some of the youths on the proper way to string out meat over the smoking fires.

Tentatively, Hermione climbed on Bane’s back, clutching his mane as he lifted himself back up on all fours. He took off in a brisk walk back towards Hogwarts with only a small limp giving evidence that he had just been in a battle hours before.

By the time Bane came to a halt near the end of the Dark Woods, Hermione had become accustomed to his distinctive gait, moving her body in tandem with his to ease his burden. She leaned forward against his mane when he climbed hills and leaned back as he navigated his way down them.

When she dismounted him, she pulled out the small hand brush the young filly had given her as a present. “May I?”

Bane showed obvious surprise at her gesture, but nodded silently, moving his back towards her. She gently brushed his fine fur on his back and the undamaged areas on his legs, soothing his fur so there was no evidence of her having been on his back.

“You and your family gave me back my honour, Hermione,” Bane said as she finished. “I did not deserve it, but I thank you all the same.”

Hermione smiled at him and bowed her head silently.

Bane seemed to re-evaluate her as he regarded her. “Firenze was right about you,” he said with bow of his own. And with that, he disappeared back into the Dark Forest, leaving Hermione to make her way back into Hogwarts for her next class.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The animated paper construct fluttered around the room with graceful flaps of its paper wings while the students in the room took turns trying to swat at it playfully. Laughs came from all the Houses as it flitted about, amusing them all. As it glided over the class for an unknown count, it suddenly burst into flames and landed in a charred heap in front of Pavarti and Padma.

The twins looked horrified, and Hermione knew exactly how it felt to have something she created fall to pieces in front of her. Her hand instinctively went to her hair and Vik nuzzled her fingers as if to reassure her that all was well and he was still in once piece.

“Good morning, children,” Professor Umbridge’s high pitched voice, which never failed to be both condescending and offensive at the same time, broke the shocked silence caused by the destruction of the flying construct. Students exchanged glances with each other as she walked down the aisle.

“Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations,” Umbridge said in her far too satisfied voice. “ O.W.L.s. More commonly known as ‘owls.’ Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be… severe.”

Umbridge waved her wand and distributed a pile of oddly illustrated textbooks that showed old fashioned and disturbingly happily illustrated students gathered around the very same textbook called Dark Arts Defence : Basics for Beginners.

All of the students exchanged odd looks with each other. While it could be argued that as flighty as Quirinus Quirrell had been, he had at least had an interesting lesson plan. Gilderoy Lockhart had, thanks to being grossly incompetent, had taught them nothing except how “not” to do defence against… well anything. Remus Lupin, reigning favourite to the throne, beat out the terrifying fake Professor Moody on practical studies. But none of them in the entire history of the class, had started off by giving them a book such as this.

Hermione, twitching in her seat in an effort to not raise her hand and ask the obvious questions she wanted to ask, reached out to her Master’s mind in the hopes to mooch of some of his pervasive calm. Severus sent her warm sympathy as she sent a mental picture of her DADA instructor’s pink pacing and demeanour and gave her and opening within his own shields for her to cloak herself in. Her eyes darkened into black almost instantly as her occlumency fell upon her in full force, reinforced by his as he helped her squelch her growing desire to do something ultimately horrible and break her promise to Minerva.

Umbridge was having the entire class copy lines out of the book as part of the class, and all around students read and tediously copied their directives onto parchment. Hermione had spoken with the majority of the students before class, imploring them humour Umbridge as best they could as to not give her any reason to bring the wrath of her pinkness upon them. Draco had done the rest, but convincing the Slytherin to do the same, albeit for shadier reasons that sounded more convincing to the Slytherin side of the school.

Dean Thomas apparently had come to his limit of polite, despite Hermione’s warning, and started to question Umbridge’s lack of practical skill. Students began to whisper to each other as Umbridge’s face began to twist into something resembling at toad on fire. She looked about ready to explode all over Dean.

“Dean, please, stop!” Hermione hissed at him.

Umbridge, not to be one-upped by anyone, took her rage out on Hermione. “Detention with me tonight, Ms. Granger, for speaking out of turn. All students must raise their hand before speaking and wait to be called on!”

Dean looked at Hermione apologetically as Hermione gritted her teeth. “Yes, Professor Umbridge,” she said flatly.

The rest of the class went quietly, if a bit strained. Umbridge, having taken her frustrations out on Hermione, seemed perfectly happy to bore the rest of the class with copying passages from the even more horribly boring book. When the bell finally rang, all the students hustled out of the classroom with the more enthusiasm than they usually saved for retreating from Snape’s.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Dean apologised as they left the class. “I really am. She’s just so… so… horrible.”

Hermione sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. Just please… try to keep it under wraps during class. She’s horrible, but she’s connected to the Ministry.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll bite my tongue next time, I promise.”

Hermione nodded.

“I really hope whatever she has you do isn’t too horrible,” he said sullenly.

“Me too,” Hermione said in agreement.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Umbridge set down her teacup as hundreds of kittens and cats mewed from her wall like their own private cacophony.

Hermione winced at the sound, wondering if perhaps Umbridge knew exactly what frequency to tune her cats to make her want to set it to flames.

“There,” said Umbridge in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Now you are going to be doing lines for me, Ms. Granger. Oh no, not with your quill,” she said spitting out ‘your quill’ like it offended her. “You are going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.”

Hermione grasped the quill and immediately felt the magic within it. It was dark magic of an insidious sort. The quill was long, thin, and utterly black with an disturbingly sharp point.

“I want you to write ‘I will not speak out of turn,’” Umbridge cooed softly.

“How many times?” Hermione asked, keeping her voice neutral.

“Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,” Umbridge said with an unusual sense of glee. “Now, off you go.”

Hermione raised her hand stiffly.

“Yes, dear?” Umbridge said sweetly.

“There is no ink, Professor Umbridge,” Hermione stated.

“Oh, you won’t be needing ink,” Professor Umbridge said with a disturbing giggle.

Hermione turned her gaze to the parchment and began to write as two things happened. One, the quill wrote the words in a bright scarlet ink, and two, she felt a sting on her opposing hand as the words ‘I will not speak out of turn’ cut into her hand like a knife tip into her skin.

Hermione felt the pen’s almost sentient glee as it cut into her, and it seemed to be feeding the pleasure right back to Dolores Umbridge.

Hermione stared at the back of her hand as it began to heal, trying to hide the evidence of the blood letting, leaving only a redness about her hand and the lingering pain.

“Yes?” Umbridge cooed as Hermione looked up at her.

Hermione stared at her wordlessly, thinking of a hundred different things she could say to her that would not help her case for Minerva.

:Master,: Hermione whispered as she cast her gaze down and continued to write the lines, hissing as the pain continued. :There may be an incident at Umbridge’s office… soon.:

Severus mental presence was curious and suspicious a the same time. :What would that be?:

:I fear I may pass out soon due to blood loss,: Hermione said. :It would a shame if you and Minerva were to come by for social tea right as I expired on the floor.:

:What?: Severus’ mind voice was sharp and alert now.

:Blood quill, Master,: Hermione said.

Severus gave the mental equivalent of a string of curses and cut the mental link, signalling he was using every bit of control he had to control his own reaction.

Hermione silently cast a pain-dulling charm upon her opposing hand in preparation for what she knew she had to do in order to make the best show of her “punishment.”

Hermione began to write more furiously upon the parchment, writing the lines over and over in a flurry of movement. At first Umbridge seemed extremely satisfied, enjoying the torture she was inflicting upon Hermione, but when she realised that Hermione was not, in fact, pausing, a part of her realised, perhaps, that her wounds would possibly not heal fast enough to cover up her torture if someone were to see it.

Hermione wrote continuously, the pain starting to get to her even through the pain-dulling charm she had cast. She continued anyway, carving deep rivulets of blood into her own skin as the blood now poured down her hand, onto the desk, and now onto the floor. Her robes on her left side were now soaked in her own blood, and her head started to feel woozy.

Hermione had cut so deeply into the back of her own hand that it had reached major veins and nicked an artery or two, and now, her blood was pumping out of her wound in a small river of bright crimson as the blood was exposed to air. The quill was even more excited as the rush of blood it was receiving was more than it could neatly channel into the paper, leaving splotches of blood over the parchment.

It was only when when Hermione heard Minerva’s faux-cheerful greeting of “Ahh, Dolores, I was hoping you would have some time for tea with us this evening, so we could discuss how your first day of classes went,” that Hermione allowed her hand to loosen on the offensive quill in her hand. Her vision went blurry, and she crashed to the floor in a puddle of her own blood, her hand twitching as it continued to bleed out.

:Hermione!: Severus’ mental voice reached her through the haze as Minerva’s shriek at seeing her beloved lioness lying in a pool of blood on Umbridge’s office floor. The mewing of the cats on the plates had risen to an even more shrill series of meows and yowls.

:Master,” Hermione whispered as everything went black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ari, wake up,” a voice broke through her painful haze. “Ari, please.”

It was Draco’s voice whispering to her in the haze. She struggled away from it, wanting to retreat back into where the darkness shielded her from the pain.

“Please, Ari, I know you’re in there somewhere,” Draco’s voice pleaded with her. “Come on, sis, please. Severus is worried sick about you. He’s given nine detentions in the past 3 days. Nine, Ari. Four of them to Slytherin! We’ve been writing five feet of parchment on agrimony. He’s miserable without you. We all are. McGonagall leaked out pictures to the Prophet of your hand when Umbridge tried to cover up what she did to you. There’s this big inquiry about the Ministry torturing students. The Ministry is trying to blame it on Dumbledore, but people aren’t listening as well as they used to. Dumbledore never laid a hand on a student the entire time he’s been Headmaster. Even father had to admit that… in public even.”

A scent came into her awareness. Freshly mowed hay and a trace of bergamont weaved into her senses. It was Draco’s scent, familiar and comforting mixed in with the lingering scent of her Master’s touch. It lured her out of the darkness and back into the pain, but the pain threatened to drive her ever back into the comfortable and painless darkness.

“She’s still here, though,” Draco’s voice sneaked back into her awareness. “But, people are watching her now.”

“Potter is livid,” Draco continued. “All your Gryffindor friends are, but it got them all banding together to make some sort of organisation to learn real defence against the dark arts. I’m not supposed to know anything about it, of course, but they’re trying to find a place where they can practice real defence.”

“Severus has been blocked from seeing you, save on official checks of your wounded hand and after effects of you losing most of your blood on the floor of Umbridge’s office floor and desk, all at Pomfrey’s request,” Draco filled her in. “It’s driving him mad. The only thing keeping him from losing it is little Vik. He’s clutched that little hippogriff in his robes as he paces the classroom and the hallways like a hungry tiger.”

“Please, Ari,” Draco’s voice pleaded as his hand wrapped around her unwounded one. “Please come back to us. I haven’t had the balls to even tell Viktor that you’re in the hospital. I’m afraid he might… murder someone.”

Draco wilted at Hermione’s bedside, changing into his snake form and wrapping himself around Hermione’s neck as he hid himself in her hair.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the dark of the dead of night when even the house-elves were sleeping, Severus Snape glided in next to the bed of his unconscious Apprentice. He pulled the privacy curtain into place, blocking prying eyes and casual glances from detecting him.

His pale hands touched her healing hand, rubbing the healing paste into her to encourage the healing of her wounded skin and tissues. Her colour had returned somewhat to normal after the daily blood replenishing potions, but he knew there was something keeping her from arising. Her mental presence was locked away from him. He knew she was alive, that part of their bond remained to him, but her warm consciousness was far away, as if it were drifting on a cloud on a distant mountain.

His eyes drifted to Draco, who was still dutifully keeping watch over his sister, curled around her neck in the hopes that his presence would encourage her to wake from her healing.

If anyone had told him that the health of one Gryffindor know-it-all would have meant enough to drive him into madness with her illness back some five years previous, he would have called them completely mad. But now, even with his occlumency, the inside of Severus Snape was shuddering with worry. No one outside what had become his most intimate family would have known, which was a relief.

Severus sat on the bed, mirroring the position he would sit on the couch with her so many times before. He cradled her there, pulling her into his robes and arms, pulling her into his scent and his touch as he had so many times before. Pulling on the memories he carried of her rolling around on his rugs in his chambers and placing her eagle head in his lap as he read, allowing his hand to stroke her fur and feathers, he rocked her against himself.

:Hermione,: he whispered into her mind. :Come back to us.: He sent her a flood of memories of their times of comfort. There were more happy memories than he ever recalled having before she had insinuated herself into his life. There were memories of the two of them, memories of he and Draco sharing time together, and the more recent memories of both he and Draco as well as Viktor and his brothers.

:Master?: her voice was weak and far away, filled with pain.

:I’m here,: he replied, stroking her head as if to soothe her feathers.

:It hurts,: she whispered.

:Share it with me,: he coaxed. :Let me help you.:

In a flood of emotions, Hermione let herself go to his command, sharing with him her pain, not only the pain of her most recent wound, but her worry of losing herself in instinct. Every time she had killed one of the death eaters, the time when she almost let herself lose on an entire room of people just because she thought Severus had been killed, and to having almost killed Bane in her fury to defend Viktor came to the surface, and Severus took it all in, soothing her and cradling her in his mind as he did her body.

Hermione took in a deep breath, snuggling into Severus’ robes, his scent, and the feel of his arms that had never once failed to welcome her home.

:Father,: the word slipped out of her mind as naturally as if she had always called him that. His heart seized up, as his hands clutched her to him in an even more desperate embrace. She couldn’t mean it. It was the pain talking. Yet part of him, desperately, desperately wanted her to say it again.

:Dad,: she said, this time snuggling tighter against his body. :I love you,: she said as she burrowed into him.

And so it was, Severus Snape was unmade. As he clutched Hermione to his chest and rocked her against himself, his eyes closing as a single tear ran down the side of his hooked nose, Severus Snape the greasy loner dungeon-bat git of the dungeon became a true father… and the happiest memory he had ever known was replaced by this one singular moment of perfect peace as his arms embraced his daughter and godson.

:I love you too,: he replied into her mind.

“Always,” he whispered into her ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. Shivers writing that last part. Phew. Anyone else have them? Lol.


	38. The Torment of Dolores Umbridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to find a place safe to teach students DADA.  
> Umbridge is on rampage.  
> Ginny confesses fascination regarding the Durmstrang.

**Chapter 38: The Torment of Dolores Umbridge**

Severus was starting to empathise with what a rugby player may have felt like, or the snitch with the entire team piled on top of the seeker. It had started innocently enough, sitting on the comfortable cushion by the fireplace, but it had become a multiple animal pile up.

Hermione had snuggled up to him mercilessly, mauling her father with all her gryphon enthusiasm and happiness to be home with her family. Draco had flopped up against her, Viktor had piled on top of Hermione and began a long grooming routine, and there were four elemental birds perched on top, making the entire pile look like a collapsed Northwest Coast totem pole gone horribly wrong.

Viktor was giving Hermione’s injured talons all of his attention, gently licking them and grooming them with his teeth. The healing had gone well and the residual dark magic had been leeched out of the wound after the Aurors came in to confirm it for Dumbledore, much to the shame of one Dolores Umbridge.

Dark magic was enough of a crime in many opinions to warrant some serious consequences—consequences that she managed to avoid due to her connections to the Ministry and some smooth talkers back at what had become known as the Office-of-Smooth-Talking-Excuse-Making. It was perhaps Cornelius Fudge’s blindness that allowed Umbridge to swear innocence in “happening to have a horrible cursed quill” in her possession that she had “picked up because it was beautiful.” Of course she would “never have harmed a student under her care on purpose.”

Despite the unfair keeping of Umbridge as the DADA professor, or perhaps because of her, the formation of Dumbledore’s army had become even more important amongst some of the student body. Harry, spurred on by the attack on his friend by the very person that was supposed to be helping them against the Dark Arts, found something to keep him on task in a manner he had never had quite realised before. He never wanted to see someone he cared about hurt and be unable to do anything about it again, and he never wanted anyone else to have the same problem either.

The search was on, however, to find a place where they could meet in private away from the prying eyes of Umbridge. The woman had become even more paranoid to trouble and people out of line, especially when she couldn’t find anything “bad” to report on. Students were unnaturally well behaved in the hallways. Female students never stood closer than a foot away from male students in public places, and every student suddenly became experts in dressing themselves properly without letting their shirts hang out. Students raised their hands before speaking in her class, never spoke out of turn, and wrote their lines in class as though it were the most fascinating thing on earth. Umbridge was furious that there was nothing to punish, and began to start looking at the faculty for faults in their teaching style instead.

It had taken a great deal of convincing from Severus and Hermione to keep Viktor and her sky brothers from taking the fight directly to Umbridge with both wand, fang, claw, and beak after they had found out about Hermione’s torture. In fact it had taken flying to Hermione’s room in the Tower and casting a do-not-notice-me spell on her bed from the open window while in owl form so Hermione could sleep in what had become the family pile up in Severus’ chambers before Viktor and the elemental birds finally agreed not to “show her what we do to vitches like her.” No one really wanted to know what they meant by that, but they had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t a slap on the wrist and a withholding of cookies before bed. Durmstrang students knew a lengthy list of Dark Arts, and unlike Hogwarts’ students, they knew exactly how to use them in an non-theoretical manner.

Firenze sent an owl to Severus with a crystal pendant for Hermione. The parchment said only “to aide your daughter in a swift recovery so that her stars may return to their proper path.” Hermione clutched the pendant to her chest gratefully and sent a note of thanks back to them along with a few tins of liniment that Severus and she had whipped up during her latest “detention.”

As a bright side of the entire injuring of Hermione, Harry was showing more enthusiasm with learning occlumency from the Durmstrang brothers, much to the relief of everyone involved. He regularly sneaked off to Hogsmeade to meet with them and train, much to the relief of Hermione.

Severus convinced Dumbledore for permission to expand his rooms for “storage of important ingredients” that were “mysteriously prone to disappearing.”

Having had many cases of such reports countless times before, Dumbledore had waved his hand dismissively and said “Do as you need to Severus. If you need to add an extra laboratory in your chambers as well to keep away from Umbridge, I wouldn’t blame you either.”

Severus, slightly unaccustomed to being agreed with so easily, privately wondered if he should thank Umbridge or backhand her after what she’d forced upon Hermione. He would settle with glaring at her silently for the moment. Constructive hatred required focus.

With free rein to expand his living quarters, Severus added a few storage rooms. One of them, however, was connected to a secret door which lead to a cosy living room that mirrored the one they had set up over the store in Hogsmeade. The centre of the room was actually a very comfortable cushion, perfect for the sprawling of an over-sized gryphon and her simurgh suitor, one large inland taipan, four elemental birds, and a not-as-disgruntled-as-he-was-five-years-ago eagle owl.

The chain of rooms were carefully warded, re-warded, and then guarded with what would have had to be the most lifelike sculptures of Fluffy the Three-Headed-Dog, a basilisk, and a large acromantula that was so realistic, even its legs twitched with realism as it tapped the floor it was guarding. Each guard was given a fake trapdoor to guard, leading off into another storage room below them that completely lured prospective intruders into the wrong areas. Draco made the side comment asking his godfather if he was him that had actually designed the maze for the Tri-Wizard tournament. Severus gave him a very practised and neutral “who me?” look, but did not answer him.

The multi-animal-pile-up room, which had been nicknamed “the lair,” had actually helped manage quite a bit of stress from all parties. The more time they spent together seemed to be as effective as therapy, and perhaps, it was therapy.

Inside the safety of the lair, Severus could let his hair down, as it were, and relax a little more than he allowed himself anywhere else. It was there, at least, he could touch and be touched and not feel awkward or vulnerable or worry about being watched by any of the Dark Lord’s minions’ children. In the lair, they slept together as a family, gaining comfort in each other in the way a social hunting pack or pride would, only their grouping was probably far more eclectic than anything someone would find in the wild.

Dolores started to pull paranoid rank and appointed herself the Hogwarts’ High Inquisitor in order evaluate not only students but professors at Hogwarts, officially becoming Hogwarts’ official pain in the arse. She had the audacity to whip out a tape measurer to assess Professor Flitwick’s height when she couldn’t find out anything else to pick on, forcing the wizard to use a podium to teach just to keep Umbridge out of his hair.

Umbridge subjected Severus to a chain of embarrassing questions about his failure to obtain the post for Defence Against the Dark Arts, causing him to take out his frustration on Ronald Weasley’s head with the Treatise On Crocodile Hearts. She could not, however, find anything out of sorts with what he was teaching, nor could she accuse him of not being strict with his potion expectations. The fact that his expectations were already light-years ahead of anything the Ministry required, the worst she could do is say that his curriculum was “too hard,” which caused Severus to glare at her with even more venom than usual. Most of his students agreed that it was better he be venomous to Umbridge than to them.

Professor Trelawney, however, was much harder to defend from Umbridge. Lavender and the Patil twins bitterly complained that every class Umbridge would come in asking Trelawney to make a real prediction, only Trelawney was unable to. Finally, after being sick of hearing about it from Lavender and the Patils, Hermione dragged Draco with her to sneak into Divination Class disillusioned.

Draco used a mild sort of possession to get Trelawney to make a trace-like prediction of some oddly random sort, such as what food would be served at lunch, or that Umbridge would trip over “something round,” or that she’d end up in a “tangled mess” by the end of the day.

Then, after the Umbridge huffed and left, saying it was all nonsense, they had Winky serve the food they “predicted” in the Great Hall, made sure Umbridge tripped over a random crystal ball that just “happened” to fall in front of her as she left, and then tripped her up as she was walking in the courtyard to be assaulted by the rose bushes, leaving her sweater and hair in the worst tangled mess imaginable.

The next day, when she came in to torment Trelawney, demanding a prediction, Trelawney told her that “the cats of porcelain walled in stone would be beset by fleas by the drove.” Umbridge scoffed again and stormed out. There was a high-pitched shriek from Dolores’ office as she stormed up to Dumbledore’s office, demanding to know why her beloved cats were under attack by fleas.

Dumbledore tilted his head at her curiously as if questioning her sanity. “Fleas, Professor Umbridge? Believe me, if I was a blood-sucking insect, I would find far more effective places to feed than on a magicked plate that could not bleed, don’t you think?”

Umbridge stormed out of Dumbledore’s office as the Headmaster calmly chewed on a lemon drop, completely unfazed.

Umbridge attempted to find fault with Aurora Sinistra as she was teaching astronomy at the a Astronomy Tower and only managed to confirm that she knew absolutely nothing proper about astronomy, causing Dolores to sniff and leave, saying it was such a boring subject that she had no idea why anyone would take the class. Sinistra scowled at Umbridge as she left. Umbridge, who could not figure out why people were snickering around her as she went by, never saw the charmed full moon superimposed upon her posterior that strangely disappeared anytime she attempted to look behind her to see what people were snickering about.

When Dolores attempted to set her eyes upon Professor Septima Vector, the arithmancy professor continued to teach her class like she wasn’t even there, refusing to bow to her intimidation in the slightest. When Umbridge could find nothing bad to say about her teaching, she walked out of the class in the middle of a very complex equation, causing the floating numbers and letters to scatter in her wake. Septima gave the toad-like woman a glare so much like one from Snape’s Manual of Perfectly Disgusted Expressions that most of her class shrunk in their seats in an attempt to hide.

During one night of the full moon, while Remus was dragged into Severus’ chambers to be watched over, the lairs’ family pile increased by one. Remus, surrounded in non-humans, seemed perfectly content to sprawl on the cushion with his “pack-mates,” drool, groom, and sleep.

Dolores, on the other hand, screamed hysterically as all of her cat plates became howling and slavering werewolves that lunged at her through the plates, causing her to flee out her office and again bang on Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore, escorting the hysterical woman back to her office, looked around, and however many hundred obnoxious cats and kittens mewled at him obnoxiously. “They look like perfectly ob… darling cats and kittens to me, Madam Undersecretary,” Dumbledore commented sleepily.

As Dumbledore walked the long pathway back to his office and his comfortable bed, Umbridge let out a shriek and ran down the hallway towards him, claiming that one of the werewolves from the plates had bitten her and she needed to be checked at once.

Dumbledore, stroking his beard in bafflement, escorted Umbridge to the hospital wing, where she stayed the rest of the night swearing that she could feel herself turning into a beast and it was all Dumbledore’s fault.

Dumbledore, however, was having the best sleep of his life, blissfully unaware of Dolores’ trauma in the hospital wing.

George and Fred just “happened” to walk into the hospital wing with some unknown malady to have treated just as Umbridge was breaking mirrors and swearing that she was trapped in a werewolf body but she was human, only to have Madam Pomfrey and a few nurses wrestle her down and restrain her, forcing a sleeping draught on the hysterical woman. The twins grinned evilly, high-fived each other, and sneaked back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Umbridge was restrained during the rest of the full-moon cycle under the sleeping-draught. Poppy refused to let her regain consciousness until the full-moon was over, since that seemed to be her trigger. “There is nothing physically wrong with her, Headmaster,” Pomfrey had said, wringing her hands. “It’s like she’s just gone off the bend.”

Remus woke the next morning feeling more refreshed than he’d ever been, and the consensus was agreed upon that during the full-moon he was to be banished into the lair with “his pack” instead of holing himself away in his quarters alone.

Dumbledore wrote an officially “concerned” letter to the Ministry explaining his regrets that Madam Undersecretary Umbridge seemed to have succumbed to a nervous breakdown during the full-moon and that they dared not rouse her until the cycle was over, lest she see a mirror and lose control again. Strangely, the letter seemed to go on a strange detour to the wrong desk before making it to the Ministry, and somehow Umbridge’s strange “full-moon affliction” rumours spread through the Ministry and then outside it, causing a bit of panic amongst the Minister’s cabinet.

Envoys from St. Mungo’s Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries came in to have a look at her a week later, but strangely found nothing. One of the doctors that looked her over asked is if she may have partaken of any Muggle hallucinatory drugs, but Umbridge shrieked out denial loud enough that all of Hogwarts started talking about Muggle hallucinatory drugs in whispers.

Draco gathered his Slytherin cronies together and joined the “Inquisitorial Squad” in order to keep a better eye on Umbridge’s growing instability. While some of the Slytherin seemed eager to wield the power of docking points and tormenting those they hated in the name of “supporting the Ministry,” Draco, at least, was using it keep tabs on Umbridge.

It had taken every amount of willpower in his repertoire to not deck Pansy Parkinson when she had made a comment that she wished Snape hadn’t been forced into helping Hermione after the blood quill business. Draco has schooled his face into its accustomed arrogance and bile, scoffing at Pansy as he said “bleeding out just ruins a good desk and then you have to clean the mud off the floor.” Pansy had thankfully agreed and left before Draco lost his cool and hexed her into the next month.

During the days, Hermione found it harder to get away from Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who had taken it upon themselves to cling to her after her bought in the hospital wing. Their clinginess was somewhat countered by Umbridge’s decree against any students found cavorting in groups of three or more, causing Harry to work even harder at finding a place where they could “practice” in peace.

Neville, however, had come to the rescue after literally running into the Come-and-Go room. Hermione, realising that there was possibly a potential leak in their structure, drafted up a parchment sheet for “Dumbledore’s Army” which had been appropriately jinxed to write the word “SNEAK” across anyone’s forehead who betrayed their organisation to Umbridge.

Satisfied that they could now officially convene, Harry started teaching the members of Dumbledore’s Army what he knew about defencive magic. His role as teacher seemed to bring him into more focus with his own lack of learning, and when he wasn’t teaching others, he was learning from Hermione or the Durmstrang brothers, which he, in turn, re-taught to those in the army.

Set in the Room of Requirement, Harry encouraged people to place pictures of the things they were fighting for. Pictures of friends and family littered the board. Cedric smiled at Harry as he posted a picture of the four winners of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and their parents, stating that it was because of the love of his father and his newfound teammates that he learned anything was possible as long as you stood by those that stood by you.

Neville posted a picture of his parents and Gran on the board, saying that even though he was raised by his Gran, his parents were never far from his mind.

Hermione, wishing in her heart that she could have put a picture of Severus, Draco, Viktor, and her brothers up with the picture she did post, posted a herself with her friends in the Gryffindor Tower. Back in Severus’ quarters, however, she magicked a camera to take a group shot of her family, and hid it under another picture of Black Lake. She charmed it so only those in the picture could see the true photograph hidden under the one of Black Lake… just in case.

Harry posted an old photograph of a large group of people from the Order of the Phoenix that Sirius had given him. The Order, he said, had once fought for the same things DA was fighting for: their loved ones and the freedom to choose who they loved without persecution over the love of power.

Ron posted a picture of his family during that last full vacation together. He tapped the photo with his finger and said, “Even though Percy is being a real prat right now, it’s that same love of my parents that binds us together that makes it so hard to deal with him. I never want to forget how much mum and dad sacrificed so we would always have a home to come back to. It wasn’t always perfect. We didn’t eat like the Malfoys, but we were happy.” Fred and George pulled Ron into a hug and dragged Ginny in too, finding truth in their brother’s words.

As more and more pictures went up, the lessons seemed to get better and better results. All the members seemed to gain something vital in their practice that they hadn’t had before—a reason to fight and a reason to defend.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ginny squealed as she picked up the little winged horse from the window and smiled as it whickered to her and pranced up her arm. “Hermione, what didn’t you tell me they opened up a store in Hogsmeade!”

Hermione lifted a brow in Slytherin style. “I believe I said ‘Hey, Ginny, let’s go see the new store opening in Hogsmeade,’”

“You didn’t say the Durmstrang opened it!” exclaimed Ginny.

“Would it have mattered?” Hermione boggled.

“YES!” Ginny exclaimed with a squeal as she picked up one of the other charmed animals and cooed at it.

“It’s not owned by the Durmstrang Institute, Ginny,” Hermione said with a shake of her head.

“You know what I mean,” Ginny muttered.

“I do not,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“The sexy boys from Durmstrang that followed you around like guard patrols last year,” Ginny replied.

Hermione made a choking sound, practically coughing on her own saliva. “Ginevra Molly Weasley. What did you just say?”

Ginny blushed and zoomed off to another part of the store, carrying the winged horse with her.

Hermione scowled at her friend’s back with a really good imitation of her Master’s standard disgusted expression.

“Hello,” Viktor said softly, startling her out of her scowl. He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.

Hermione blushed, his gesture never failing to bring out the red in her face.

“Ginny thinks you and your brothers are ‘sexy,’” Hermione noted as she looked back towards where Ginny was busying herself starting and multiple rows of berry preserves.

“You no think we ‘sexy’?” Viktor asked with a straight face.

Hermione blushed really hard. “I happen to think one of you is… quite dashing.”

Viktor closed the gap between them a little. “Hrm… Vonder who? Aleksander perhaps? He always charmer with flaming hair.”

Hermione turned her head, still blushing.

“Lazar, maybe?” Viktor continued. “Mist makes him mysterious.”

“No,” Hermione managed to get out. “Not Lazar.”

“Valko then,” Viktor said. “He down to earth.”

Hermione blushed furiously, unable to stop the effect Viktor was having upon her.

“Must be Petya, then,” Viktor purred to her. “He never have problem communicating.”

Hermione placed her hand on Viktor’s chest and slammed it into him a few times, silently trying to wrestle a response out of herself that didn’t involve stammering like an idiot.

Viktor smiled warmly, leaning in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her against him with a soft and almost imperceptible growl.

There was a soft gasp as Ginny caught them sharing the kiss. Ginny stared at them, clutching the little winged horse with wide eyes.

Hermione blushed even harder, her entire face now a very convincing colour of Gryffindor.

Viktor pulled her to him, placing his hand on her head and guiding her head under his chin. He eyed the youngest Weasley with amusement. “Looks like cat is out of bag,” he rumbled softly.

Hermione’s shoulders quaked as she laughed into his chest. Her laughs were silent at first, but so strained that her lungs made a wheezing sound.

Viktor held out his hand to Ginny. “Ginny, bring horse a moment.”

Ginny shyly slinked over to join them and placed the winged horse into Viktor’s hand.

Viktor closed his eyes as he closed his hand over the small winged horse. He did not loosen his grip on Hermione as he stood perfectly still for quite some time. He opened his eyes after a while and opened his hand. The little winged horse, now the same colour as Ginny’s complexion and hair, nickered and darted to Ginny and dove into her hair. “Horse is yours. Take care of,” Viktor said softly.

Ginny’s eyes widened and she captured the winged horse in her hand and drew it to her chest lovingly. “Thank you so much!”

Viktor smirked and barked something in Bulgarian before he smiled at Ginny. “You velcome,” he said with amusement.

Aleksander, Lazar, Petya, and Valko came around the counter and circled around Ginny like swarming sharks.

“Hello,” Aleksander purred.

“How are you?” Valko rumbled.

Lazar took Ginny’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Pleasure to meet friend of sister.”

Petya caught Ginny as she fainted right into his arms.

“Mmm…” Petya said with a gallant shrug. “Dat went vell.”

“Perfect, brothers,” Viktor said, taking the opportunity to nibble on Hermione’s neck. “Thank you.”

Petya took Ginny into his arms and carried her over to a comfy chair in the store, chuckling to himself. “Might as well make tea. When she vake up… will need it.”

Hermione inhaled deeply and looked up at Viktor, placing her hand on his cheek in an attempt to say something that wasn’t an incoherent noise.

Viktor just grinned at her warmly, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “Stay for lunch?” he asked innocently. “Might be a while for your friend to vake up.”

Hermione shook her head and smiled at him. “Okay,” she agreed, happy that her voice didn’t squeak.

“Good,” Viktor purred taking her arm in his and leading her back into the kitchen where lunch awaited.

 

 


	39. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the night, Arthur Weasley ended up in the hospital. His children gather around him.
> 
> Albus Dumbledore requests/demands that Snape teach Harry occlumency.
> 
> Hermione returns to Snape to have him tend her Dark injury.

**Chapter 39: Nightmares**

Harry sat beside Mr. Weasley’s bedside as Ginny fell over her father with a relieved sigh. Molly had left them alone as she went to talk with those still politely waiting outside the door.

Fred and George looked as serious as they had possibly ever looked, but their sense of panic over their father’s unknown condition lessened now that they could touch and feel their father in front of them.

Ron, whose face hadn’t left the ashen white it had gained when he had shook Harry awake from his nightmare, was finally gaining some color. Mr. Weasley was petting Ron’s head as one would a cat, but Ron wasn’t complaining. The contact seemed to bring more color back to Ron with each stroke of his father’s hand.

“Harry,” Arthur said as he was finished being given attention to and giving attention to his family, extended his hand to Harry, which he took tentatively.

Mr. Weasley’s hand was warm in his. “Harry,” he said softly. “Harry, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t still be here. Thank you.”

“Don’t talk like that dad,” George fussed. Fred nodded in agreement.

“No, children,” Arthur said seriously. “Credit where credit is due. Thank you, Harry. I know whatever happened must have scared you, but you still had enough sense to insist it was real. You saved my life, and I can’t thank you enough.”

Harry looked conflicted and slightly embarrassed, but he nodded to Mr. Weasley. “You’re welcome, sir.”

Molly returned to the room. “Come, come, dears,” she tutted. “Let the next group come in and speak with your father before he sleeps again.” She ushered the lot of them out from the room.

Sirius and Remus hugged Harry as they walked in, their expressions were tired but warm.

“It was a good thing you did, Harry,” Sirius said.

“Dumbledore had the portraits do all the work,” Harry admitted. “I just woke up screaming.”

Remus hugged his shoulders. “And your friends fetched McGonagall who in turn took you to Dumbledore. We are all a part of a greater picture, Harry. We are all pieces to a greater whole. If we cannot support the others gears in the machine, then we all lose.”

Harry nodded shakily.

Sirius hugged him tightly again. “You’re going to be fine, Harry. You have to be strong.”

“But,” Harry interjected. “What if he’s in my mind? What if… I’m what he’s looking for… his weapon? I was the snake. In my dream, it was me.”

“Harry,” Sirius said firmly. “You are not a bad person. You are a good person that bad things have happened to. You cannot be forced into something you are not. You choose to be what you are, and you can choose to be what he is not.”

“How… how can I block him? I feel like… I’m becoming him. There is all this anger inside. I don’t even know where mine ends and his begins,” Harry confessed in a rush.

“Dumbledore has an idea, he wants to talk to you when you get back to Hogwarts,” Sirius said.

Harry nodded, taking in a deep breath.

“Now, let us talk to Arthur before Molly busts an vein in her head,” Remus chuckled, shooing Harry out of the room.

Hermione walked in with Alastor Moody and Tonks, looking more tired than Harry had ever seen her. He hadn’t seen Hermione since Dumbledore had whisked all of the Weasley children and himself to Grimmauld Place. Hermione had looked tired then, but she looked especially tired now. She favored one of her legs as she walked.

Remus and Sirius immediately rushed up to her, pulling her into what seemed like like huddle.

“Are you all right?” Sirius asked.

“You smell like hell,” Remus said, pulling her against himself and Sirius.

Harry turned around as the door closed behind him.

Fred and George poked him, dangling a pair of extendable ears. “Want to hear what the grown-ups are fussing about?”

Harry grinned and took a pair as they all huddled at the door.

“You’re limping, dear, are you all right?” Molly’s voice came from the ears.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said in reply. “I just zigged when I should have zagged is all.”

“You shouldn’t have been zig or zagging, if you ask me,” Molly chided.

“Nonsense, Molly,” Arthur said. “If she hadn’t arrived when she did after Harry sent out that warning, no amount of portrait yelling would have saved me. Any more strikes from that beast would have been my end.”

Molly made a wailing sound.

“Now, now, Molly,” Sirius chided. “Arthur is fine. Worrying about what could have happened just insults what did.”

“I just want to know how a young witch not even out of school beats us to the Hall of Mysteries before even the Aurors can get there?” Moody’s voice snapped.

“Harry told her what he saw,” Lupin said. “Dumbledore was acting to move Arthur’s kids to safety. While he was wrangling portraits, she was already on the move. It’s easy to see why she got there first. She didn’t wait.”

“Reckless,” Alastor growled. “Dangerous for a child.”

“She held off that snake until we got there, Moody,” Tonks broke in. “We have it now, under stasis, if we can just figure out how to kill it. None of that could have happened if she hadn’t been there to keep it busy. Who cares how she got there.”

“She could be under the influence of a bloody Death Eater!” Alastor argued. “For all we know it could be—”

“Enough!” Arthur bellowed. “Harry had the vision. She acted on it. Keep your Death Eater paranoia from tainting our children as well, Alastor. You know as well as I that if you weren’t so busy trying to find Death Eaters under every rock that you’d be the first one trying to recruit Hermione for the Aurors.”

Alastor snorted, the sound of his cane smashing on the ground caused Harry, Fred, Ron, and George to wince.

“Enough of this talk,” Molly hushed. “You need to stop this before you end up inducting her into the Order. She’s still a child, no matter how talented.”

“Not for long, Molly,” Sirius said gravely. “War ages us all faster than we would like. Those her age most of all.”

“But not right now, Sirius,” Molly insisted. “She… Harry… Ron… Ginny…. even Fred and George… they all still have time to be children.”

“And look at her, Molly,” Lupin said. “She’s already protected us and our secrets. She does this without question, without us asking her to.”

“How can she sleep at a time like this, Remus?” Alastor scoffed. “And on you of all people.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” Sirius muttered. “Animal magnetism.”

“She’s exhausted, the poor dear,” Molly’s attitude went from one type of protective to another in a blink of an eye.

“I will take her back to Hogwarts,” Remus said. “Better I do it with Umbridge running around like a the Muggle Spanish Inquisition.”

“Yes,” Moody grumbled. “Best that you do… and take that bunch of eavesdroppers with you.”

The door flew open and slammed into Harry, George, and Fred’s faces, causing them to groan in pain.

“Hrmph,” Moody grunted and walked over to where Arthur was lying in bed and began muttering to him.

Lupin and Sirius shook their heads. Lupin stood, crading Hermione against him as he stood. “Take care of yourself, Arthur,” he said as he left.

Lupin carried Hermione as though she were weightless, coming to where the three boys were sitting on their rears in the hospital hallway. “Time to go, if you are quite done sticking your ears where they shouldn’t be,” Lupin said admonishingly as the three boys blushed at being caught.

Remus held out a random stirring spoon. “Grab hold please.”

The boys and Ginny moved in to grab the spoon and the portkey yanked them all by their navel back to Hogwarts into Lupin’s office.

“Don’t forget to visit Dumbledore’s office, Harry,” Remus reminded him.

“Professor?” Harry asked curiously.

“Yes, Harry?” Remus said, still cradling the sleeping Hermione in his arms.

“Did she really,” Harry began. “Did she really fight a snake off Mr. Weasley?”

Remus smiled kindly at Harry. “She believed you, Harry,” he said. “Isn’t that what you really wanted to know?”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. “What will happen to the snake?”

“First it will be tested to see if it is an animagus,” Remus said. “That being done, if it is not a wizard or a witch, it will probably stripped of any unnatural magic and killed as a danger to life.”

Harry nodded. “Do you think I’ll still dream of it?”

“Until it is dealt with, Harry, you may still be vulnerable,” Lupin said. “Now off to Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded and exited the office in a rush.

“Now you four, back to the Tower,” he dismissed them. “Let’s go.” Remus picked up the pace as he carried Hermione and escorted the Weasleys back to the Gryffindor Tower.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You called for me, Headmaster?” Snape said quietly.

“Yes, Severus,” Albus said. “I’m sorry for the hour, but this cannot wait any longer. Every minute we wait, we could all be exposed.”

Snape’s dark eyes managed to become even darker as he gazed upon the fearful looking Harry that was sitting in Albus’ comfy chair.

“What is it… you require?” Snape said carefully.

“I need you to teach Harry occlumency,” Albus said. “Hopefully you can keep him shielded enough that whatever bond that is connecting him to… Tom… is squelched.”

“Occlumency is a skill refined in numbers of years, Headmaster,” Snape said flatly. “Not hours.”

“It must be started now, Severus,” Dumbledore insisted. “Please, this is important.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed at Harry. “As you wish, Headmaster,” he replied without the slightest chance in expression.

“Good,” Albus replied. “Harry, go with him. It is important you learn what he is going to teach you. Learn it well.” Albus dismissed them with a hand wave, turning to look somewhere else in his office.

“This way… Mr. Potter,” Snape said in a tone that seemed act like a dementor’s presence. Snape swept from the room with a swirl of his robes.

Harry could do nothing else but comply.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After about the twelfth dive into Harry Potter’s memories, Severus detected a slight change in his student’s shielding. Slowly, ever so slowly, he was starting to focus enough on the right things to keep his memories protected. His first attempts had been deplorable in the extreme, whether from wrong method or laziness in practice, he wasn’t sure which.

Having learned about every unhappy and happy memory from Harry’s childhood under the Dursley’s he had no doubt why Harry’s fantasy of perfect parents had come to pass. The fantasy, he saw clearly, is what gave Harry his arrogance that was so much like his fathers, but unlike James Potter, Harry depended greatly on his dreams to keep him from sinking into despair.

Harry truly wanted a family to be proud of, but in his tenacity to create one in his mind, he was often blind to what was right in front of him. Blood wasn’t everything, and Harry Potter of all people should know that better than anyone. Yet, in his mind, his perfect family was always perfectly biological.

Severus withdrew from Harry’s mind for an uncounted time, his lips curled as he pushed the experienced memories from his mind and out of his consciousness.

Severus poured a cup of tea on his desk and handed it to Harry. “Drink,” he commanded. “Attempt to gather your thoughts so you can banish them. Throwing up walls after I am already inside does you no good. The Dark Lord will not give you the chance resist once he has found a way in.”

Grateful for the reprieve, Harry uneasily drank the tea, still feeling uncomfortable being taught by his most hated teacher.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Snape snapped at the door.

“I’m sorry, Professor, Madam Pomfrey requests you inspect my leg for dark magic in case she missed something.” It was Hermione’s voice.

“Stay here, Potter,” Snape commanded coldly as he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry fidgeted with curiosity as he finished the last of the tea. He tested the door with his hand, turning the knob excruciatingly slowly as to not make a noise.

The door opened just enough for Harry to peek out the slit.

“Sit here, Miss Granger,” Snape commanded, and much to Harry’s surprise, she did not argue, only sat on the chair Snape gestured to.

Snape pulled out his wand and carefully lifted up her leg, pulling the robe back enough to expose an angry looking bite. No wonder she had been limping earlier.

“The bite still bleeds,” Snape said softly as he undid the bandage. “Why did Pomfrey let you leave?”

“It seems to bleed when it is not covered, but not as much when it is bound,” Hermione explained.

Snape made a hissing sound and reached his hand out in thin air, and a jar slammed into it. He did it again, and a tin slammed into it as well.

He opened the vial and aimed his wand down to her leg. “This will hurt, Miss Granger. You may… cling to me… if you must.”

Snape chanted softly, and a pale green trail of fluid oozed from her bite and into the vial. Hermione groaned, her face twisted in her pain. Snape continued to chant, and Hermione finally doubled over, her hand reached out and clutched Severus’ robes, pulling them towards her as she buried her head into them, moaning in pain.

“Feels worse than when it happened,” Hermione moaned, her fingers clutching his robes so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Snape tucked his wand away and stoppered the cap on the vial he was holding. The vial was almost full of the pale green fluid. “Nasty bit of venom… enhanced with dark magic. Pomfrey was wise to ask me to look, but an idiot to send you here instead of calling for me. Does she wish for me to set you up with blankets and a mattress on my classroom floor?”

Hermione looked sheepishly at Snape as he smeared something pungent on her wound and bound it with bandages.

“Perhaps she has grown tired of seeing you in her hospital wing, Ms. Granger,” Severus grunted at her. “From what I hear you have clocked in substantial time there this term.”

Hermione’s face flushed. “It was not intentional, Professor Snape,” she replied in an abashed voice.

“Hospital trips rarely are,” Snape commented dryly. “Drink this,” he commanded as he pulled out a vial from his robes. “It will dull the pain so you can sleep.”

Hermione took the vial from him and sniffed it experimentally.

“Do you not trust me, Miss Granger?” Snape smirked at her.

“My professor taught me never to take anything I wasn’t sure of what it was, sir,” Hermione parroted.

“Noteworthy,” Severus said with a sniff. “Drink it anyway.”

Hermione drank it down. Her face wrinkled. “Awful.”

“Unfortunately,” Snape replied. “You should not put weight on that leg for the rest of the evening, Miss Granger. There is, unfortunately, the matter of getting you back to your dormitory.”

Hermione’s face looked suitably horrified.

There was movement by the door that caught Snape’s attention. “Lupin,” Snape snapped.

“Professor Snape,” Remus’ voice answered him. “Is there something amiss?”

“Please take Miss Granger where she can suitably rest,” Snape requested. “Pomfrey sent her down to me and I do not have a cot for her here in my classroom. She needs to stay off her leg. I cannot, as I have a student with remedial potions work I must deal with.”

Harry flinched at the mention of remedial potions work.

“Of course, Professor Snape,” Lupin said. “Arms around my neck please. Up. There you go.” Lupin cradled Hermione against him for the second time in two days and left the room, leaving Severus and Harry alone.

Severus stood, tucking the vial of eerie pale green fluid in his robes. “Rest time is over, Potter. I hope you have cleared your mind.”

Harry gulped and sat back in his seat as Severus swept back into his office, fixing him with an obsidian stare as he did so.

And the lessons began again in earnest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Severus/Hermione know Harry was watching/listening? Oh you bet they both did, hence the titles. Besides, they can both speak mind to mind. Why didn’t they? Consider this a test to see how Harry would react to seeing them having a conversation as well as an interaction that required touch.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns that Winky has hidden talents.  
> Hermione tells Draco what really happened at the Ministry.

**Chapter 40: Early Morning Musings**

Hermione woke lazily in the early morning, wincing slightly as her leg gave a little throb of warning that it was still there and still not happy with her.

Little Vik gave a soft yawn and a chirp from his place half-covered by Crookshank’s tail. Her familiar gave her a lazy meow and rubbed up again her.

Hermione smiled, scritching the half-Kneazle with amusement. He already had tuna-breath, which meant he had been “saved” from hunger by Winky. The house-elf dutifully went about her chores in the dormitory without any sign of displeasure or regret, and Hermione was glad that she was perfectly happy with making her own clothes from fabric she provided. As promised, Hermione never tried to offer her clothes. She had learned that while there would sometimes be those like Dobby who preferred to be free, there were many more like Winky whose choice was to serve.

As if knowing Hermione was thinking about her, Winky appeared with a soft pop on her bed. “Good Morning, Mistress,” Winky greeted happily. “May I take you somewhere? Master of Honourable House of Slytherin said to ask.”

Hermione tilted her head. “You can take me places inside Hogwarts?”

“Of course, Mistress. Anywheres I can go,” Winky looked at her with amusement.

“Is this common knowledge?” Hermione asked curiously.

“No, Mistress,” Winky answered. “But you protector of Winky. Winky would take anywhere Mistress desires if Winky can.”

Hermione smiled. “Winky, could you take me to my father?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Winky said with a nod, holding out her hand.

Hermione took it gently and the both of them disappeared with a pop.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione appeared in the doorway of Severus’ bathroom. Severus was leaned over his sink brushing his teeth. Winky had already popped out as Severus raised his head and his eyebrow at Hermione, his mouth full of toothpaste foam.

Hermione blushed averting her eyes.

“Good morning, father,” Hermione squeaked.

:Daughter,: Severus said with amusement as he spat out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

“I didn’t know she could do that!” Hermione said as she handed Severus a towel.

The dark wizard patted his face dry with the towel and smirked at her. “Would have saved you the embarrassment of being carried off by Remus last night, yes,” he admitted. “But, I wouldn’t use her ability often, lest someone find out and abuse the ability.”

Hermione nodded. “It saved me from hobbling down to your chambers this morning on one foot.”

Severus grunted. “True. Go sit down on the couch so I can look at it.”

Hermione yawned and nodded, limped softly over to the couch and sat down.

Severus joined her a few minutes later and lifted up her leg to examine it. “You seem to be healing faster now that the venom is drained. Poppy must have realised the venom was not coming out normally when you weren’t healing after the first day she saw you. She was wise enough to keep feeding you blood-replenishing potions.”

“Dark magic?” Hermione asked.

“Very,” Severus said with a nod. “Designed to keep the wound open so it bleeds out.”

“Sorry to interrupt your occlumency lessons last night,” Hermione apologised.

“He was lazy, but…” Severus sniffed. “He started to remember what the birds taught him and apply it to what I was teaching him. He is getting better. I think he is realising why he needs to do it.”

“I’m glad, Master,” Hermione said softly, wincing as Severus unwrapped her wounded leg.

Severus carefully cleaned her wound and soothed fresh ointment on it and very gently re-wrapped her leg with a clean bandage.

“He spent most of the night after you left pondering why you were at ease with me tending your leg,” Severus smirked as he pulled her robe back down over her bandaged leg.

“Erm, because you’re my Master?” Hermione offered.

“Even if we could tell him, I doubt that would go over well this early,” Severus said with a lifted eyebrow.

“You’re my father?” Hermione tried again.

“Let’s not give the boy a heart attack, please,” Severus recommended.

“Err… I respect you?” Hermione offered.

“Because detentions are so effective at nurturing respect,” Severus smirked.

Hermione leaned over and pressed her head against him, inhaling softly. “You smell like home?”

“Not likely to go over well,” Severus replied. “Unless he’s suddenly become an animagus in the last month.”

Hermione beat her head against his chest a few times as she thought. “I’ve learned that being civil to you keeps you from calling me an insufferable know-it-all?”

Severus grunted, soothing her head with his hand. “I supposed that will do.”

“Dumbledore told me to give you a chance,” Hermione said decisively.

Severus chuckled. “Blame it on the old man. Classic.”

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it, shrugging. “It’s the truth!”

“Draco is waiting for a debriefing on your adventure in the Department of Mysteries, my Apprentice,” Severus said with a sniff. “You know how he feels about being left out of the fun.”

“I hardly think getting mauled in the leg by a giant snake as being fun, Master,” Hermione said with a lifted eyebrow.

“To each their own,” Severus answered.

“It would have gone better if I would have been able to shift,” Hermione admitted. “You don’t even realise how slow you are until your body doesn’t move like you expect it to.”

“Keeping Nagini busy must not have been easy as a human,” Severus commented. “I will admit to being somewhat lacking for training you in snake to human combat.”

“I’m not sure any training you could have given me could have prepared me for… Nagini did you say?” Hermione asked.

Severus nodded. “I believe the Dark Lord picked her up in Albania while the he was still non-corporeal. There may be more to her than being a familiar. She is the one thing the Dark Lord will touch and care for… as much as one such as he can care for anything.”

“So he will probably attempt to retrieve her?” Hermione speculated.

“I can only hope wherever they have her locked down at…” Severus said, “That they keep her completely sedated. If they allow her to be conscious, they allow him the chance to locate her. Moody refuses to tell anyone who isn’t directly involved with attempts at killing her to know where she is located.”

“So they have tried to kill her already?”

“Tried being the operative word, yes,” Severus replied.

Hermione winced as she moved her leg. “Killing a large homicidal snake should never end in ‘tried to kill it,’” she said with a sniff.

“I would prefer ‘obliterated,’ personally,” Severus commented with a raised eyebrow.

“Agreed,” Hermione said.

“Now, shoo,” Severus said standing up. “Limp along and find Draco before he comes back and bites your other leg for being slow.”

Hermione made a face as she stood somewhat wobbly and wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled deeply.

Severus’ hand gently touched her head as he returned the embrace.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hermione, please,” Harry tugged on Hermione’s sleeve as they sat in the Room of Requirement. “I really need to know.”

Hermione winced as she sat down, grateful that the room had decided she needed a comfortable chair to sit in.

Ginny touched her arm gently. “Hermione, none of us blame you for anything. We just… we were really surprised.”

Harry touched her arm. “You’ve been protecting me from the start, haven’t you?” His voice was calm, but there was a quiver of emotion to it.

“You saved our dad, Hermione,” Fred and George added. “We’re grateful. We really are.

Hermione closed her eyes a moment and then slowly nodded.

Harry let out a long sigh of relief. “How did you know it was real? How did you know it wasn’t me?”

“Harry,” Hermione said softly. “If you’d been possessed, you wouldn’t have been so scared or so detailed in your descriptions. It was your details that made it real.”

“I tried to tell him that,” Ginny said as she touched Harry’s arm. “When I was possessed, I lost time and remembered nothing.”

“How did you know to go, ‘mione?” Ron asked. “All of us went running for Professor McGonagall, but you left first, but it wasn’t for her, it was to find dad.”

“How did you know where he was?” Harry asked.

“Remember how Viktor said you needed to learn Occlumency?” Hermione said.

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore has me learning it from Snape now,” Harry added.

“What? From Snape? Why?” Ron gasped.

“Shh, let Hermione speak,” Ginny insisted, hushing her brother.

“It’s because your mind is very open and very loud, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “And to anyone who might be listening… you’re an open book.”

Harry flinched. “Someone like Voldemort.”

Hermione nodded.

“I’ve been sleeping by him just about every night since we were eleven,” Ron said. “How come I never read his mind?”

Hermione closed her eyes. “Harry isn’t the only one trying to learn outside of Hogwarts.”

Ginny perked. “You’ve been learning from the Durmstrang!”

Hermione shot Ginny a look.

Ginny waved her hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to tell, but Hermione! That’s so cool!”

Hermione slumped forward and shook her head, allowing them to believe her lessons had come from Viktor and his brothers. It was easier, and they made a believable excuse. They would probably get great amusement out of it when she told them.

“Wait, the Durmstrang?” Ron boggled.

“Yeah, they have a shop in Hogsmeade!” Ginny said excitedly and then slapped her hands over her mouth. She gave Hermione another apologetic look.

Hermione shot Ginny a look that translated into “this is why I can’t tell you my secrets.”

“I’ve been going there on Hogsmeade weekends to practice with them,” Harry admitted.

“Why didn’t I know about it?” Ron groused.

“Last time I tried to take you there, you said ‘You go on ahead, I want to check out the new Quidditch cards at Spintwitches,’” Harry recalled.

Ron hung his head. “Right,” he sighed.

“Now we’re definitely going to have to go visit,” Fred and George said with simultaneous nods.

“How did you get to the Ministry so fast, Hermione?” Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation back to where he wanted it.

Hermione sighed and pulled a small cat figurine out of her robe and placed it on the floor in front of them.

Multiple sets of eyes looked at her questioningly.

“It’s a port key. I um… liberated it from Umbridge’s office,” Hermione said, averting her eyes.

“You’re a bloody natural!” George and Fred said with glee. “Right out from under her nose, I bet.”

Hermione smirked a response.

“How is it that it doesn’t just port you automatically?” Ginny asked, staring at the creepy looking cat figurine.

“There is a switch under the tail,” Hermione said, pointing to the base.

“Where does it take you?” Ron asked.

“Deep in the hornet’s nest of the Ministry,” Hermione said with a deep breath.

“How did you figure out where it took you without being seen?” Harry asked.

Hermione gave Harry a blank expression with only the corner of her lip curving upward. “I may or may not have borrowed your cloak for an evening, Harry.”

“That’s what you used it for?” Harry balked. “I figured you were sneaking into the restricted section of the library again.”

Hermione grinned at him.

“How does she not know it’s stolen?” Ginny asked.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Vik poked his beak out from Hermione’s hair and chirped.

Ginny’s eyes widened. “You replaced her original with a copy?”

Hermione said nothing, but Vik chirped cutely from her hair. Hermione scooped up the cat figurine and tucked it away into her robes.

People began to stream into the Room of Requirement for Harry’s lessons and the group of them struggled to their feet to meet those entering.

“What are we going to learn today, Harry?” Luna asked as she drifted in.

“I’m pretty useless right now,” Hermione said softly. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She stood slowly and propped herself up on a walking staff that looked suspiciously like one of the staves wielded by the Durmstrang while they were visiting. She smiled at them all and limped out.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco smirked as a particularly overly protective simurgh curved his body around Hermione as she rested by the fire. Viktor didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Hermione was not in her more resilient gryphon form, and was grooming her mercilessly, setting her hair into even more disarray due to the curls combined with the nature of human hair versus fur Hermione struggled half-heartedly against the relentless onslaught, flailing her arms out and giggling as Viktor pinned her down with his large paws and licked her hair into shape until it had a disturbingly feathered look that looked like she had taken hair pointers from Rolanda Hooch.

Viktor’s peacock tail fanned out over the floor in an almost seasonal spread, matching the Christmas decorations that Winky had seen fit to decorate their living quarters with. She took it upon herself to take care of the place with dutiful care, saying that wherever Hermione made herself at home was home enough for her to tend. The Durmstrang, appreciative for her help, left her little jars of preserves, warm cloth, and other such small tokens, which seemed to gain Winky’s affection without insulting her with the idea of being given clothes.

Presents were already gaily wrapped and waiting under the equally festive tree. One of the packages looked like it was holding something alive because it would occasionally move on it’s own, tip over, or rustle. Aleksander swore it was just his family’s tradition to do things to presents that made it hard to tell what was really inside. Hermione had expressed concern about what if there really was something alive inside, but Aleksander assured her that if there had been something truly alive inside, there would have been air holes. Hermione seemed dubious, but accepted Aleksander’s word for it.

Viktor, satisfied at last, snuggled into her and laid his over-sized canine head over her, looking like an incarnation of Fluffy guarding his favourite toy.

“Well, now that you can’t escape,” Draco sniffed. “Care to tell me what happened at the Ministry while you were off getting bitten by a giant snake?”

Hermione huffed from under Viktor’s pinning embrace. “You make it sound like I wouldn’t tell you otherwise.”

Draco sniffed, giving off a hurt air, “seemed like you went off saving the world without me.”

“Bah,” Hermione murmured into Viktor’s fur. “You know I didn’t leave you behind on purpose.”

Draco mumbled to himself for a moment, but smiled at her.

“I am somewhat glad you weren’t there, though, Draco,” Hermione admitted. “Severus said that the Dark Lord has been known to “possess” his pets. Snakes, however, were the only things that survived the process. I’m not sure how much of him was in Nagini when we battled, but if recognised you, it would have been bad.”

Draco seemed concerned. “Do you think he was in the snake when she attacked you?”

“Mr. Weasley described her attack as being ‘strangely calculated’ at first, but when I was fighting her off, he said her attacks had changed half-way through before he had become to overwhelmed in pain to notice much else,” Hermione said. “I’m hoping that means that she was on her own when I arrived.”

Draco nodded. “I hope so, Ari. I realise we’ve been training for this sort of thing, but I don’t want the next thing out of my father’s mouth to be an order to do something horrible to you… well more than he already orders me to make your life miserable.”

Hermione snorted. “I know, Draco. But… we’ve been watching Harry and his traumatising dreams for changes for a long time. He woke up practically screaming his dream to anyone with legilimency. It’s only a slight miracle that the only ones who knew were me, you, Severus, and Dumbledore.”

Draco ran his fingers under his chin. “It was a pretty loud projection. When I woke up, I ran to Severus’ chambers, and he was already sending word to Black and Lupin to be ready for anything.”

Hermione nodded. “Severus checked the port-key that I used from Umbridge’s office for any unexpected tracers or beacons to allow others to port to it and found nothing, but just in case, we hid it somewhere that will make anyone who tries very… wet.”

Draco perked. “Oh? Dare I ask?”

“Let’s just say, I hope they can cast a bubble-head charm wordlessly and without a wand,” Hermione said with a grim smile.

“Merlin, Ari,” Draco half-choked. “The Durmstrang are rubbing off on you.”

Viktor chose that moment to snuffle Hermione, causing her to giggle.

“So, tell me how it went down,” Draco insisted.

Hermione snuggled in closer to Viktor’s warmth and began to tell her story.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The corridors were dark and cold, resembling a cave more than a building. Dull glows were set every so often upon the walls, but the magicked lights were hardly much help to the human eye. Hermione longed for her other form’s senses in all of their glory, but she knew she couldn’t give away that particular secret, even now.

Harry’s dream had been too ominous and real to be anything but a direct connection to the Dark Lord’s fractured mind. Draco’s description of the Dark Lord had painted him as a twisted form of a man who seemed far less human than naturally possible, as if he had been caught in between animagus transformations and condemned to something in between. Severus had some suspicions on why this was, especially after a few summons to the Dark Lord’s side, but he was not sure just yet if his hypothesis was ready to become theory. Dumbledore, he said, seemed to have a growing suspicion as well, but, as of yet, was not sharing details to anyone, Severus or otherwise.

Hermione pulled her travel cloak around her for warmth. Her clothes were unremarkable, save for the drape of the drab cloak around her shoulders and body. There was nothing overly identifiable about her that screamed Hogwarts student or even Hermione Granger . Her hair she had charmed completely straight and pulled it into an equally boring bun, turning the colour an aged silver-grey mixed with blond. She whispered an incantation into her hand, felt it grow warm, and then slapped herself upside the face, giving herself an unattractive port wine stain across her face and blue eyes, silently thanking Flitwick for the countless extra hours of “extra curricular” charms work he had bestowed upon her due to her “enthusiasm,”

Hermione parted her lips, taking in an intake of breath and scent. She tasted the air using the back of her mouth, perhaps never so grateful for the parting gift of her forced polyjuiced transformation into a cat that had left her with some inhuman senses without her animagus form. At least she didn’t have the rest of the cat’s features to go with it, though, and she would have given a few galleons for a cat’s eyes at that very moment.

The dusky scent of snake curled around the corridor, and a shiver went through her body. There was an unnatural sort of nature to the scent that mixed snake with magic. It was not the twin scents of human mixed with snake, but something more insidious, like the movement of a great leviathan under the dark water of unknown seas.

A glow from a half opened door alerted her just as the scent became stronger. There were shadows moving in the room and the sound of struggle.

Hiss.

Thud.

Sounds of struggle.

Another hiss.

Scratch, thump, and a groan.

Hermione thrust her emotions deep within, occluding everything from her face and her mind. Her wand hand ceased the mild tremble that had started to creep in as she walked the dark corridors without much desired backup. Oh how she longed for Draco’s comforting presence at her back, the warmth of Viktor’s body to remind her of him at her side, or her Master’s pervasive scent that was like a well-loved sweater on a cold day. She gathered her courage, swept her emotions clear, and walked into the next room.

The largest snake Hermione had ever seen was alternating between being coiled like a spring to strike and slithering after the crumpled and struggling form of Arthur Weasley. Her colouring and scales looked ever so much like a reticulated python she had seen at a zoo visit with her parents, but she was changed somehow… twisted into something far more deadly, gargantuan, and venomous.

“Stupefy!” Hermione yelled, aiming her wand at the coiled serpent.

The snake was hit square on the head, but seemed to shake it off with ease, turning her body to stare at Hermione with what could only be translated as animal hate. She was no ordinary snake. There was a greater intelligence in her eyes that, while not specifically human, mirrored the higher intellect of Crookshanks and Hedwig.

Hermione was on the move, casting her stunning spells as she ran, smacking the snake a number of times, but the snake barely slowed. Some enchantment in her making or infused magic within her was protecting the snake in some way. She was not, if one could take it as a positive, completely immune to the stunning spell, but it would take many more hits to bring the snake down, and she had to avoid being stricken to death first for that to happen.

Arthur was moaning from his place on the floor, and the snake seemed to halt her attack on Hermione to look back at him, pausing as if to consider which target was more worthy of her attention.

Hermione, determined to be the only thing the snake should care about, sent a flurry of stunning spells at the snake, a reductor curse that the dexterous snake avoided and caused the shelf behind her to crumble to dust, and flurry of stinging hexes that only seemed to piss the snake off more.

Arthur moaned again, gaining the attention of the irate snake, and she started towards him again.

Hermione hissed, “Carpe Retractum!” and sent a magical rope zinging out to catch one of the nearby shelves and topple it, blocking the snake’s path back towards Arthur .

The snake was back on her, and Hermione kept her striking at her in a circle of back-peddling through the room. The snake coiled and launched herself at Hermione, fangs bared, and Hermione yelled out, “Diminuendo!” causing the snake to shrink slightly, but it was a mistake. A smaller snake was a faster snake, and it sank her fangs into Hermione’s leg.

Screaming in pain, Hermione hissed out a chain of words, and her wand became a staff. She slammed the staff into the snake’s head with a crack of ice, slowing the serpent down with the fault of its own metabolism.

The serpent was growing back to normal size again, but the cold attack had finally slowed her down.

With her jaw clenched in both pain mixed with fury, she slammed the staff down on the ground, went to her knees, and blew across the top of it, sending a fiery phoenix from the top in a long circle around the writhing serpent, entrapping her in a circle of fire so hot it changed from orange to blue. She slammed her hand down on the ground, and a whirlwind of bitter cold formed inside the ring of opposing fire. Ice imprisoned the irate serpent in its numbing and slowing cold.

Hermione panted on the floor, hissing in pain as her leg throbbed. She tore part of her cloak into a strip and tightened it around her leg. The staff she had in her hand turned back into her wand, and she pointed it at her leg, sending a numbing cold down her leg to stop the spread of whatever it was the serpent had bitten her with.

Limping horribly to Arthur’s side, she cast her wand over him, trying to heal some of his deeper wounds, but the venomous bites continued to bleed. Cursing, she cast the same cold charm over Arthur she had done to her own leg, slowing the effects of the serpent’s venom-laced attacks until help could arrive.

Hermione’s teeth chattered, and she felt herself growing colder due to the self-imposed freezing of her own body. She had over-taxed her magic fighting the snake. She couldn’t even disillusion herself or apparate back to safety.

She heard voices in the corridors now. They were loud, but somewhat familiar in her half numb state. She curled up in the foetal position next to Arthur, who continued to moan deliriously.

The voices became even louder, and Hermione recognised Remus’ and Sirius’ voices.

“Here!” she hissed. “In here…”

Warm hands touched her shoulders as they rolled her over. Remus pulled her over to him as Aurors descended upon Arthur like a cloud of hungry locusts. They had him levitated in a matter of seconds.

“Going with Arthur, Remus,” Black said in a rush.

Crack.

They were gone, carrying Arthur away to what Hermione could only hope was St. Mungo's.

“What the devil is this thing?” Moody’s harsh voice snapped from somewhere.

“It looks like a giant… snake,” another voice answered him.

“I can bloody well see that, you idiot,” Moody barked. “I want this thing put in a stasis and at least three binding rings deep in containment, NOW!”

“Y…yes, sir!” voices chimed. Ex-Auror he might be, but apparently ex did not mean without authority.

“Remus,” a female voice said. “Who’s the girl?”

“Arthur’s saviour,” Remus replied. “Help us get her to the hospital wing back at Hogwarts.”

“Shouldn’t we take her to Mungo’s?” the female voice asked.

“I can’t explain right now, Tonks, please,” Remus insisted. “I’ll need your help sneaking her back into Hogwarts since we can’t apparate into the grounds.”

“The explanation better be good, Remus,” Tonks said.

Hermione felt herself being lifted up.

“My explanations are always good, Tonks,” Remus grunted. “Alastor, we’re taking her to safety.”

Moody grunted something before yelling more commands at the swarming Aurors as Hermione felt the yank of apparition swallow her up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“So while you were off dancing with venomous snakes, Severus was activating the Order’s equivalent of a Muggle phone tree?” Draco summarised with a chuckle.

Hermione gave a tired chuckle of her own. “Yes. Good thing too, to be honest, I didn’t have a lick of magic left in me after the fight.”

“Why did you overextend yourself, Ari?” Draco admonished. “What if there had been death eaters in there too? What if they got to you before the Order came in with the Aurors?”

Hermione looked a bit embarrassed. “I fear my concern was a bit preoccupied with the snake.”

Draco looked torn between strangling the daylights out of his sister and being relieved. He settled for flopping against Viktor’s side instead.

Viktor yawned toothily, still pinning Hermione down to the ground with his forelegs and his massive canine head.

“I’m glad you came out all right,” Draco said with a tired voice. He slumped against Viktor, eyes closing.

Hermione wrapped her hand around one of Viktor’s huge paws and closed her eyes. “Me too.”


	41. Apprenticeship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge tries to ban brooms.  
> Hagrid is hiding something.  
> Umbridge is on the trail.  
> Dumbledore wants Snape to take Hermione as his formal apprentice.

**Chapter 41: Apprenticeship**

Harry stared at the plethora of little crowns decorating the Common Room in tandem to the Christmas decorations with a combination of disbelief and horror. "Weasley is Our King!" was emblazoned on them, and if you made the mistake of trying to touch one, the parchment let out a grand cheer. Harry shot an accusatory glance at Ron.

Ron slumped his shoulders. "I didn't ask for this, I swear," Ron moaned.

The Quidditch teams were in a hundred different kinds of disarray thanks to the Pink Menace, as they had started to call Umbridge. Between that and a few less than flattering monikers such as d'Umbridge that had gotten back to her ears thanks to the Inquisitorial Squad, she had taken out her frustrations on anything she saw at the moment it pissed her off… like the Quidditch teams.

Harry, Fred, and George had been banished from the team. Harry hadn’t actually been doing anything at that particular moment, but she screamed at him like an angry cat about something involving seaweed and maple fudge, which only caused Harry to scrunch up his face in an even more baffled expression. That caused her to start yelling at him even more, taking away his broom rights, and banning him from the Quidditch Team for “forever.” Everyone knew the woman had completely gone off her rocker when she accused Fred and George of tampering with Malfoy’s broom and even Malfoy gave the woman the most incredulous look from behind her back.

While Malfoy had, strangely enough, assured Umbridge that his broom was safely locked away in a trunk in the Slytherin dormitories, she made a decree that brooms had to be locked away in her office unless she personally allowed them out.

Things came to a breaking point when Rolanda Hooch was out trying to teach her first years how to fly on a broom, and all the brooms were missing… even hers. Hell hath no rage like a flying instructor with no brooms, and Madam Hooch was not about to sit around on the greens of Hogwarts with an entire class of students and no brooms. When Umbridge said a theoretical approach would be a safer and more controlled way to teach flying in a Ministry approved manner, Rolanda's began to take on the countenance of Severus Snape. She waited for Umbridge to leave, conjured up a writing desk for each person present, and summoned an owl for each student, where every student in her class wrote a letter to their parents why they would not be learning how to fly on an actual broom. Her higher level classes wrote detailed letters to their parents why Quidditch was being cancelled and why they would not be seeing their beloved children playing this year and who to blame it on.

Within a matter of days, Howlers from irate parents descended upon the Ministry of Magic and Dolores Umbridge's place at the High Table, screaming that countless fathers, mothers, great grandfathers, grandmothers, and so on and so forth had been learning how to fly on an actual broom since time immemorial, and so help them, if their child could not rely on the Ministry to allow Hogwarts to provide the education that their great, great, great, great, great grandfather and grandmother had then countless votes of support to the Ministry would be rescinded. The Prophet was plastered with irate write-ins and articles that detailed the history of brooms, flying, and the best and worst broom-fliers of all time. Articles detailing the reputation of Hogwarts, flying safety, flying curriculum, and the spotless record of Madam Hooch's teaching of flying spread from paper to paper, going as far as the States, where a paper had the headline: BRITISH MINISTRY OF MAGIC WISHES TO ABOLISHES BROOMS FROM WIZARDING WORLD! DOLORES UMBRIDGE HEADS CAMPAIGN TO RID THE WORLD OF BROOMS!

A Bulgarian Paper was sitting on the table in the Lair with the headline : LUDICROUS WAR AGAINST BROOMS STARTED BY BRITISH MINISTRY OF MAGIC! MINISTER CORNELIUS FUDGE SUPPORTS DOLORES UMBRIDGE AND DOLORES UMBRIDGE WANTS YOUR BROOMS! It was all in Bulgarian, of course, but Viktor had charmed it so it flipped from English to Bulgarian. All the articles on the front page made fun of the British Ministry of Magic, and there was even an interview of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic denying any such "idiocy" going on in their local Ministry.

Political comics of a very unflattering caricature of Umbridge stealing brooms from baby cradles and Quidditch teams made their way across the world Wizarding papers, leaving the Ministry struggling to retain its credibility as long as Umbridge was considered affiliated with them.

The British Ministry of Magic finally had to make great use of their Office-of-Smooth-Talking-Excuse-Making to assuage the masses that there had been a great misunderstanding of Dolores Umbridge's care and concern for the safety of the students of Hogwarts. The brooms, they said, were being checked to make sure they were the very best out there. They didn't want children flying around on outdated brooms.

The Nimbus Racing Broom Company, not wishing to be viewed as anything but a quality broom crafting business in the wake of to mudslinging of their name, sent Hogwarts crates of specially designed student brooms for quality durability, precision turning and stopping, and the Hogwarts crest stamped onto the end of the broomstick. Their business regarding their speciality racing brooms, thanks to their goodwill gesture to Hogwarts, skyrocketed.

Madam Hooch suddenly found herself with more brooms than she knew what to do with as she now had more brooms than she had students. Dumbledore allowed her to create a special broom stable out on the flight lesson green, giving Rolanda control over the school brooms.

As for all of the confiscated brooms… they found their way back to their original owners, and the old school brooms were stamped with the Hogwarts crest and given away in a raffle to students who wanted a "piece of Hogwarts history."

In a rare moment of solidarity, Draco and Harry and a number of other broom owners sat on the green together, stroking their beloved brooms as they made sure every twig was in place, polishing every bit of metal until it glittered blindingly in the sun.

Brooms returned, a truce-like peace descended upon Hogwarts, at least for the student body. Quidditch was back on, Madam Hooch no longer looked like she was going to murder someone, and somehow Ronald Weasley had become the reigning Gryffindor Quidditch champion all before Christmas. Harry, Fred, and George were still “banned from all things Quidditch,” but the three were so happy to have their brooms back that the main focus became locking their beloved brooms away in a manner they would never lose them again come hell or high water.

Despite his moaning that he didn’t want the attention, it did seem to do wonders for Ronald’s mood and emotional stability. For the first time in over a year, Ron was not hair-triggered to a mood shift. Some argued, albeit never when he was in earshot, that perhaps some good came out of Umbridge’s rampage around Hogwarts. No one was going to tell her, though. Ever.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

News of Hagrid’s return had Hermione, Ron, and Harry sneaking out in the cold and braving the wrath of Umbridge and her Inquisition. The glow of the hut’s inner fire and the smoke that billowed out from it was never more welcome. While the substitute teacher had not been a horrible one by any means, she had not been Hagrid. The lovable half-giant had been through too much with them to not be missed.

As Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off from the three of them, there was a great amount of wringing of hands as they beheld Hagrid’s beaten up face and body.

“What happened to you?” Harry blurted out as all three of them stared at him, their happiness at seeing him was transformed to horror at his bruised and swollen face.

Hagrid was holding a large dragon steak to his face, which while known to have some healing properties for whatever reason, looked absolutely unhygienic in the extreme. The sickly green cast to the raw dragon flesh did not look good at all, and even Hermione, whose inner gryphon was prone to welcome the next meal involving meat, found the sight utterly unappetising.

“Nuthin,’” Hagrid grunted as he shuffled them in and closed the curtains before grabbing the kettle off the fire. “Want a cuppa?” he asked without really allowing them to answer. He filled the empty cups he had already set out without waiting for an answer.

Ron frowned as he sipped the tea. “Come off it,” he grunted, “you’re in a right state!” (OotP 422)

“I’m tellin’ yeh, I’m fine,” Hagrid fussed, attempting to straighten his posture and give them a smile, but his bruised and beaten complexion was not helping his case in the slightest. “Blimey, it’s good ter see you three again — had a good summers, did yeh?”

Three sets of disbelieving eyes were cast upon Hagrid, and the half-giant looked a bit like he had been put on display at the local Muggle zoo.

Little Vik chirped imperiously at Hagrid, clutching a vial of something in his talons as he scolded the half-giant with a series of twitters and chirps that sounded unnervingly like Molly Weasley admonishing her children.

Hagrid slumped, taking on the look of one utterly browbeaten by a certain Weasley matriarch. He took the vial from the irate hippogriff as though he knew the consequences of not doing so would bring the wrath of the little creature down upon his face that made his current state look like a love tap.

Much to everyone’s relief, including said hippogriff, Hagrid set aside the dragon steak by throwing it at Fang, and poured the contents of the vial on a piece of soft cloth and began to tend his wounds with it.

Hermione winced slightly as her leg reminded her that she wasn’t exactly at peak performance herself, and little Vik chirped encouragingly as he tucked himself back into her hair. The little hippogriff had not been happy being left behind when she had left to the Ministry, but she left faithful little guy with Harry to keep him calm after his nightmare.

“Oi,” Hagrid honed in on Hermione. “Why yeh limpin,’ ‘ermione?”

Ron looked Hagrid straight in the eye. “While you were off getting ‘nuthin’ done to your face, ‘ermione was out getting beat up saving dad from a large and pissed off snake.”

“Yeh what!” Hagrid exclaimed, looking like he was going to give the vial back to Hermione for her own use.

Hermione waved the vial away. “Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape already saw to my leg to make sure it’s healing cleanly. They want it to heal without the dittany to make sure they got all the dark venom out.”

Hagrid looked at Hermione like she’d sprouted a second or a third head. Ron looked at Hermione with horror as he realised that she had been tended by Snape.

“You had to let Snape touch you?” Ron said with horror.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Professor Snape, and yes. He had to touch me to put on the ointment and wrap my leg.”

“But… Snape!” Ron protested. “Why would you let that greasy git touch you?”

Harry made a sympathetic face, echoing what he had been wondering ever since he had spied on the Potion Master leeching the venom from Hermione’s leg bite and Hermione being completely okay with it.

“Now you see ‘ere,” Hagrid chided. “Professor Snape may not be your favourite teacher, Ron, ‘arry, but he’s a professor ‘ere at ‘ogwarts. Dumbledore trusts ‘im, even if you two can’t seem to get it in yer heads that the man isn’t trying to kill yeh. It’s about time the two of you realised he’s not going to let ‘ermione bleed out just because she’s not in his House.”

Harry and Ron looked down, admonished, but the ever-present doubt when it came to their Potion Master was clear across their faces.

As if realising that the conversation had been derailed, Harry wrestled the conversation back. “Hagrid, now tell us why you look like you’ve been dragged the mountains by the face. What, were you out picking fights with giants?”

Hagrid’s hands froze as he was blotting the dittany on his face. “What?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he realised his random comment had hit home. “Wait… you were out fighting with giants?”

Hagrid shook his head adamantly. “No, no, I wasn’t looking for a fight, yeh see…” He stopped, realising he had given away something.

“Hagrid,” Hermione chided. “We know you’ve been off doing something for Dumbledore. Do you really think that we believed the gamekeeper of Hogwarts has to go on leave for his health when he lives out here, surrounded in fresh air and therapeutic magical creatures?”

Hagrid sagged as he finished off his tea. “Alright, alright,” he sighed. “I was off parlaying with the giants on behalf of Dumbledore. He was hoping to gain their favour enough to at the very least convince them to stay out of any upcoming fights. Ideally, we’d love them to be on our side of something went down, yeh see, but staying out of it is just as good when it comes to giants…”

“I take it went badly from the start,” Harry said, looking at his beaten face. The swelling, at least, was going down, and his face looked less like he’d been dragged across gravel.

Hagrid shook his head. “It went well, actually, until another giant killed the leader we had been talking to. A giant named Golgomath… he killed Karkus, the giant that was actually accepting our parlay, and everything went pear-shaped after that.”

Hagrid filled them in with the more gritty details as they downed a few cups of tea. They, in turn, filled him in on the drama that had come with Dolores Umbridge, warning Hagrid about how she was just hunting for things to find wrong with anyone or anything.

Hagrid looked grim.

Little Vik gave an alarm chirp and Hermione shot up and looked out the window curtain. “She’s coming!”

Ron, Harry, and Hermione dove for the cups and threw them under Fang’s blanket and dove under the invisibility cloak after giving Hagrid a bunch of frantic waving. They slipped out the back door. Umbridge was following their tracks from further up.

Hermione hissed something under her breath, waving her wand, and a series of odd gusts sprang forth along the snow covered path, obliterating their foot prints towards Hagrid’s hut and instead lead Umbridge towards a certain ill-tempered Whomping Willow.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ron whispered as they helped support Hermione on their way back to the dormitory.

By the time they returned to the Common Room, they could still see Umbridge following the false tracks across the moors.

“That’ll keep Her Pinkness busy for a while,” Harry said. “I hope Hagrid at least tries to keep our lessons toned down so she doesn’t have a reason to try to get him fired.”

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

The trio said their good nights and shuffled off to bed at last, both relieved that Hagrid had finally returned and worried for what lay in store for the future.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dolores Umbridge showed up at the High Table the next morning looking like she had rolled around on the forest floor. There was leaf litter in her hair, she had what appeared to be moss on her sweater. Many professorial eyes stared down the table to peer at her curiously, perhaps wondering what she could have been doing so late into the night that she didn’t bother to dress herself or take a shower before showing up to breakfast.

Dumbledore had a most furious twinkle in his eyes that particular morning, and when Minerva asked him why he was so cheerful, he detailed how wonderful his sleep had been. Umbridge had scowled at him accusingly to which Albus smiled at her with his best Christmas cheer, “Ah, good morning, Dolores. I trust you are excited about the holidays coming up?”

Dolores looked about ready to explode as her shoulders shook in her barely contained anger and frustration.

Christmas decorations were in full swing going down the length of the Great Hall, and for the most part, students were ignoring Umbridge in favour of the holiday season. There were a record number of students going home for the holidays instead of staying at Hogwarts on this particular year, and it did not take anyone spectacularly bright to figure out why.

Sirius has invited everyone to spend part of the holiday at least at Grimmauld Place, much to Harry’s delight, and the group of them were starting to look forward to the actual break beginning.

Dumbledore lightly touched Hermione on the shoulder. “A word with you, Miss Granger,” he said in his light-hearted voice. “Before the break whisks you away for a month.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” Hermione said, standing up to follow him.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked at Hermione curiously as she followed Dumbledore out.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You want me to what?” Severus stood motionless in Dumbledore’s office as Hermione kept her head cast down in a properly horrified manner consistent of having the dreaded Potion Master of Hogwarts glaring at her.

“I need you to train her, Severus,” Dumbledore repeated. “After what she did to assist in the rescue of Arthur Weasley, we need to insure she is trained properly. Trained by you, Severus.”

Severus’ face was completely blank save for the curl of his lip that was not flattering in the slightest. It was the face of the Head of Slytherin and the greasy git of the dungeon, master of bastard feng-shui that stared across Dumbledore’s office.

Dumbledore waved his hand. “I’ll make it an official apprenticeship to shield you from your House. They can blame me for it.”

“Albus, you can’t be serious,” Severus said. “What could possibly make you think that she needs to apprentice under me to learn anything?”

Dumbledore stroked his beard and looked far more serious than usual. Even the twinkle in his eyes was absent. “The snake was a Horcruxes, Severus.”

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut and serve.

“A… what?” Severus responded softly, his voice dangerously quiet.

She is no ordinary snake, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “Hermione fought a Horcrux. Every normal attempt to kill her has failed. Judging by what she herself said about the battle and what Arthur confirmed about the actions of the snake before she arrived, the snake is a heart-line back to Tom.”

Severus stood perfectly still, the only movement of his form was the slight rustle of his outer drape of his robe as he breathed. “Why me, Albus? Surely you know all eyes will be upon me with the Dark Lord’s death eater’s children’s eyes staring incessantly upon us.”

“It will not just be you, Severus,” Albus confessed. “I’m inducting her into the Order. We will each be teaching her important things. She’s obviously talented, if a bit… reckless for rushing in to fight a snake by herself… but she did it. You cannot deny that takes skill.”

Severus curled his lip but said nothing.

“I will have her training with Alastor in the matters of detection. Tonks will assist with infiltration. Minerva said she will teach her the most advanced transfiguration she can. Kingsley will teach her the ins and outs of the Ministry,” Dumbledore rattled on.

“Why this sudden rush, Albus?” Severus asked coldly.

“Dolores is tracking Harry right now, Severus,” Dumbledore explained. “I know he’s been teaching a group of students Defence Against the Dark Arts in hiding. She hasn’t found out where, yet, but when she does… and we both know it is only a matter of when with her paranoia and help from Filch and the Inquisitorial Squad… I plan on taking the blame for it. That will leave my position open to Umbridge. Ms. Granger must have a safe person to go to in my absence, Severus. It must be you. Minerva will be too busy fending off the aftermath of my departure. Please, Severus, I trust you with this task.”

Hermione, to her credit, showed appropriate surprise at Dumbledore’s knowledge of the Army, allowing him to chuckle at her at her expense.

Severus remained still, looking ever the statue. “As you wish… Headmaster.”

“Good,” Albus said with finality. “I’m having Kingsley oversea her O.W.L.s early at the Ministry, so they cannot be questioned. The Apprenticeship paperwork will be filed now, so they will be official by the time she is done with the O.W.L.s. I fear this will take up most of your Christmas Break, Ms. Granger.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Hermione said weakly.

“This has to be done, Severus,” Albus said as he walked up to pet Fawkes with his hand. “She has to be appointed by me to your side, or she will not be safe from Tom. She will be too official to simply disappear.”

Severus stretched out his fingers and then formed them into a fist. “Very well, Ms. Granger. It seems you are stuck with me,” he said coldly, his lips pursed into a thin line. “Follow me… Apprentice.”

“Yes…Master,” Hermione said weakly, casting her eyes down to the floor, but standing up to follow him.

As the Potion Master swept from the room with his new Apprentice following behind him, Albus breathed a large sigh of relief. With Severus, the girl would be protected, and if all went well, he would teach her how to stay alive, and Harry would have a better chance of surviving for what was to come.


	42. Can't Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione have a good laugh at the circumstances.  
> Harry discovers that Hermione has been apprenticed.

**Chapter 42: Can’t Breathe**

Deep within the hidden confines of the Lair, Severus Snape and his Apprentice were losing their marbles all over the floor. If the lung squeezing, gut twisting lifts and heaves were any indicator, they were both suffering from what could only be described as laughing so hard it hurt.

Severus, well-known dungeon git, bat, and chronic rampaging arse-monger of the n’th degree, was flat on his back in the middle of the room cushion, his body shaking in effort to not belt out a chain of obvious laughter.

Hermione lay draped over her father’s prone form, shuddering with the kind of laughter that made her quiver like a stranded jellyfish on the beach. Every so often, she turned to her side and clutched Severus’ side, gasped a few times, and then started up the laugher all over again.

Finally, Severus couldn’t take it anymore, and just laughed. Truly laughed, his normally soft and controlled voice transformed in a booming baritone laughter.

Draco came staggering in, looking around frantically to find out what could have possibly happened to have both his sister and godfather losing themselves to uncharacteristic laughter. “Severus? Hermione? What… did you blow up a laughing potion?”

Hermione started to wheeze in an attempt to stifle her laughter, gasping and burying her face into Severus’ black robes.

Draco sat on the cushion with a confused look on his face as Severus stared at the ceiling, snickering loudly.

“Dumbledore… said… oh Merlin,” Hermione laughed even harder.

“Albus… ordered me to take… an apprentice, Draco,” Severus managed to say in between gasps of air.

Hermione pulled herself closer to Severus using his robes and buried her face into his side. His arm went around her, and her breathing finally slowed down. “I don’t even know what this means. I mean… does anything even change?”

“We can now be seen together in public,” Severus said with a deep breath. “In fact, it will be expected more often.”

“I won’t have to disillusion myself to get to your door anymore?” Hermione giggled.

“That might be awkward for you, considering you’ve done it for the past four years,” Severus commented. “Might still want to do it with Umbridge skulking around like an angry troll without a bridge to sulk under.”

Draco flopped on the cushion, stretching out on his stomach and grunted. “So it’s official now?”

“Mmhmm,” Hermione snickered.

Severus grunted as Draco laid back against his stomach, staring up at the ceiling where Winky had cast the entire ceiling with bright and shiny garlands and ornaments. “I will have to get you a proper set of Apprentice robes,” he said with a sniff, “because you obviously do not wear enough black to be my Apprentice.”

Hermione sputtered. “Minerva is going to have a cat if I start dressing like you.” She paused as she realised what she had just said. “Well you know what I mean.” Hermione giggled.

“What is wrong with how I dress, daughter?” Severus grunted.

“Nothing, if you want to goto a funeral or a death eater meeting, Uncle,” Draco snickered.

“Pffft,” Severus snorted at them both.

Little Vik wiggled out from under Severus’ black hair and perched on his forehead, chirping sweetly.

“See, even the hippogriff agrees,” Draco snickered.

“Lies,” Severus grunted, blowing a puff of air at the hippogriff from his mouth.

Vik chirped agreeably and trotted down his face and curled up under Severus’ chin.

Severus sighed and gently patted the little hippogriff with his free hand. “You do not wear vibrant colours when brewing potions,” he sniffed logically.

Draco turned his head over to look Severus in the face, but only managed to get a face full of miniature hippogriff wing. “You cannot tell me that if you were teaching something like…charms or transfiguration that you wouldn’t be wearing exactly the same overwhelmingly dreary colour schemes.”

“I have been known to wear colours other than black, I’ll have you know,” Severus said.

“Dark purple, dark crimson, and dark whatever do not count as significantly colourful, father,” Hermione teased.

Severus snorted. “Black is also a colour, daughter, and I will see you draped in it.”

“Noooooo,” she moaned. “I do not want to be assimilated.”

“Resistance is futile,” Severus commented dryly, amusing himself with one of the few Muggle television references he remembered seeing during the forced breaks at Spinner’s End.

Hermione cuddled up against him, draping her arm around both Draco and Severus with a long sigh. “I suppose better black than pink.”

“If I ever in my life willingly dress in pink under anything but duress, life-threatening situations, or some random joke in the nature of George and Fred Weasley, you have my permission to throw unforgiveables at me,” Severus said caustically.

Draco and Hermione started gagging with the mental image.

“Merlin, no,” Draco moaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“It is… customary… for the Apprentice to share quarters with the Master,” Severus said as he rolled up into a sitting position at last. “If Albus wishes this to be as official as possible, this may make things awkward between you and your House.”

“Oh no,” Hermione moaned. “I get to live with my dad.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I was referring to your prefect responsibilities as well as House affiliation.”

Draco poked Hermione’s side. “Doesn’t being a real Apprentice outrank prefects anyway?”

Hermione grunted. “I’m not sure, there hasn’t been an formal Apprentice at Hogwarts in… a long time.” Hermione’s mind trekked back through the many pages of Hogwarts, a History.

“Apprentices outrank until you bump into professors,” Severus said with a sniff. “That is, until you pass your prospective N.E.W.T.s. Then, depending on if you pursue Mastery, you may be forced to endure teaching dunderheads as both a professor and an apprentice. If you are really barmy, you can continue teaching after you have Mastery, and confirm to everyone that you are certifiably mental.”

Hermione rubbed the space between her eyes. “May I just… survive taking all of my O.W.L.s first?”

Severus chuckled softly. “As you wish.”

“I wonder if this makes you immune to the Inquisitorial Squad point docks,” Draco pondered out-loud. “That will make Pansy fit to be tied.”

“I would highly recommend you pretend that it does affect you,” Severus recommended. “Let the students think they can still dock you and act as a prefect, just to keep things as normal as possible. It will not help you against Umbridge, however, so you must still be… civil to her face.”

“I can hardly be civil to her back-side,” Hermione admitted.

“I second that,” Draco agreed.

“For now, we can have you remain with your main bed and belongings housed within Gryffindor Tower, but at least if you are inclined to stay here, no one will be able to question it,” said Severus as he stretched his arms out sleepily. “We can work out the strange details as we go. Like… how we’re going to do breaks and other such social events, as technically, we must do such things together once you are formally pinned with my mark.”

Draco boggled. “Dumbledore really wanted you two close then.”

Severus tilted his head back and forth to stretch his muscles. “I have no doubt he wished Hermione to be practically married to me. He of all people knows what a formal Apprenticeship entails. The difference is… I know he wants her to be there to protect Harry and be close enough to do so, so the balance will be… strange. Even more so than they already have been.” Severus stood and shrugged his shoulders so his robe went back into its customary position. Vik fluttered around his head and chirped sweetly, sitting on his shoulder and fluttering his wings happily.

“What a mess,” Hermione said as she stood up and extended her hand to Draco, helping him up.

“We have a few weeks during the break to figure out the subtleties,” Severus said softly, “sans the days you are obligated to attend social events and inundate yourself with horribly obligatory holiday cheer and merry making.” Severus twisted his face into a habitually contempt expression.

Hermione gave Severus a resigned look. “Scrooge.”

“Bah, Humbug,” Severus said with a sniff.

Hermione shook her head.

Severus froze suddenly, giving a sharp hiss. His hand clutched his arm.

Hermione and Draco looked at him worriedly as he held out his hand and an even darker black robe flew to his hand with a metal mask.

He pulled the robe on quickly as all trace of expression was chased off his face and out of his eyes. He placed the mask over his face as he pulled the hood over his head, hiding his hair. He cupped his hand around Vik and gently tucked him into Hermione’s hair.

Hermione and Draco hugged his waist tightly, silently squeezing him against their bodies.

His pale hands gently brushed their heads before he swept from the room, disillusioning himself as he fled the chambers to answer the summons of the Dark Lord.

After Severus left, Hermione exchanged a worried look with Draco. Draco wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as the strength of her worry swallowed her up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As Severus returned from his meeting with the Dark Lord, part of him wondered if inviting Umbridge as a “dinner guest” to the Dark Lord’s table would cure her of her various misguided delusions. Part of him knew that there was no cure for the level of delusion the toad of a woman had, but there was an equal part of him that enjoyed imagining what could change her attitude.

As he wearily walked into his chambers, he cast the death eater robe and mask into back into their hide away with a wave of his hand as his feet led him past “Fluffy” and into the secret path into the Lair.

As he walked in, Hermione’s brown eyes met his through an eagle’s head as she lay next to Viktor. She lifted her wing in invitation silently, sending only the silent warmth of welcome through their bond. Draco was draped around her neck in a lazy coil of muscle and scales. There was space between Hermione’s and Viktor’s wings— the perfect size for a tired Potion Master.

Severus found himself between them so automatically that he couldn’t even remember crawling between them. Their joined wings folded over him, casting their shared warmth between them.

Severus took in a deep breath as he tucked himself between his Apprentice and her suitor, feeling her head snuggle up against him as Viktor’s canine head gently pressed against his back with a comforting touch.

Little Vik squirmed out from Hermione’s neck feathers and fluttered against his neck, tucking himself near his neck and chin with a welcoming chirp.

Snape’s eyes closed without his permission and his body slumped, carrying him into blissful oblivion and the warmth and comfort of his family around him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

There was a gryphon in his bathtub with bubbles up to her back.

Hermione was lurking in his tub like a crocodile with only her nostrils sticking out of the soap bubbles, and her wings cast over the sides of the tub.

Severus yawned as he cast his gaze over his furred and feathered daughter and shook his head.

Hermione stirred in the soapy bubbles and looked towards him, sending him a mental image of a gryphon cub swimming in the same tub, only dwarfed by the soap bubble mountains due to the difference in size.

Severus snorted in amusement, and knelt by the side of the tub, grabbing the nearby soap from the wooden dish to keep it from falling into the water. He lathered his hands and worked the soap into her fur, massaging her muscles in the warm water.

Hermione made a purring and rumbling sound in her throat from his ministrations, her wings trembling minutely as he worked over her from beak to tail tip. She moved her soapy head, placing it on his shoulder as she rubbed up against him damply, soaking him slightly in warm soapy water.

Severus grunted,shouldering her sopping head away as he checked her rear leg wound. The wound had healed closed cleanly with no sign of aftereffects from the venomous bite. There was a thin line of scar tissue marring her hide, but it was minuscule in comparison with what could have been.

Hermione gave a soft eagle squeak, rubbing up against him affectionately, the warmth from her body caused the water to steam off her fur and feathers.

He rubbed under her chin and smirked. “Out, you horrible excuse for a pond frog,” Severus grunted. “I need the use of my tub.”

Mischief in Hermione’s mental presence warned Severus of what was to come only seconds before Hermione’s beak clamped over his shoulder and her talons wrapped around his body and pulled him into the soapy water with a large and undignified splash, soaking Severus from head to toe.

The dark wizard sputtered indignantly, arms flailing to gain purchase on something, finding only Hermione’s massive gryphon bulk to cling to. She wrestled with him playfully, projecting her amusement over him as if she were smearing jam upon her favourite piece of toast.

Hermione leapt out of the tub with a splash, her toe claws clicking across the stone floor with echoing clacking mixed with the squish of water from her fur. And just as Severus managed to get the soap bubbles off his face, Hermione began to tremble starting at her beak.

“Oh no… NO!” Severus bellowed, shielding his face as his gryphon daughter began to shake herself off, sending a spin of water droplets in all directions starting from her head all the way to her tail, which was curled in such a loop against her back with her amusement that she might as well have had a spring attached to her rump instead of a tail.

Severus glared murderously at Hermione as she snuffled his face as he lay sprawled, fully clothed, in his soapy bathtub. She rubbed her head against his shoulder and head, rumbling and making soft eagle sounds into his ear.

Resigned to tolerance of his daughter’s mischief, he reached up and placed his hand on her head, stroking her feathers with his soap covered hand.

:Love you, dad: she purred into his mind as she ran her head against his cheek before padding out the bathroom door, her tail curled tightly against her back.

Severus send her a mental picture of a gryphon skin rug for his foyer, evoking a chain of jubilant laughter from his daughter’s mind.

About a half hour later, with his robes and clothes now hanging to dry, a large towel wrapped around his waist, and another towel wrapped around his head like a turban, Severus stalked across the living room to his normal bed chambers in order to dress, passing by the gryphon laying sprawled on her back near the hearth fire, legs sticking up on the air as her belly was exposed to him in a very catlike position if it weren’t for the added wings in the equation.

When he returned a few minutes later, dressed in a fresh set of robes, she was lying in the same place, basking in the heat from the nearby fire.

Severus knelt down beside her and stroked her belly fur gently, causing her to rumble softly in response.

:Love you too, miscreant,: Severus replied at last.

Hermione’s tail, no longer coiled like a spring, slapped into him playfully, the tuft of fur on the end smacking into his face.

There was the clicking of claws as a sleepy simurgh padded in from the Lair with Draco hanging limply in his jaws as only a serpent could, still out cold in sleep. Viktor deposited Draco on a cushion by the fire with a yawn and stretched, fanning his wings and folding them against his body as he flopped unceremoniously on top of Hermione, causing the gryphon to squeak in protest.

Viktor pinned her with his forepaws, mercilessly grooming her feathers and fur into place as she squirmed beneath him.

:Justice,: Severus said into her mind as he stood to find his teapot. If this was just the start of the day, he was going to need a lot more tea before breakfast.

-o-o-0-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was beaming from ear to ear as guests were arriving in a steady trickle to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Christmas had always been such a depressing event at the Dursleys for Harry. One would never have guessed it from how happy it made Dudley, but Harry at least knew now that it wasn’t him that was the freak in the Dursley family… the Dursleys themselves were the freaks.

Molly Weasley was fussing around the kitchen as though every kitchen in the world was her territory. Sirius chuckled as she shooed the children out of it as she busied herself with the makings of Christmas dinner.

Arthur, still a bit achy from his ordeal, was sitting in the comfiest armchair they could find. They had dragged it to the head of the table so he could be comfortable and be in the middle of the festivities.

All of the Weasleys fussed over the wounded patriarch of the family as though he might break at any moment, and Arthur grumbled that they were making a big ado over something he’d already survived.

Harry was glad to see him in such great spirits. Arthur had become somewhat of a father figure to him before Sirius had taken up the role as his godfather, so he felt good that Arthur was way past the worst of his attack.

When the doorbell rang again after Harry had been sure all the expected guests were present and accounted for, he ran to get the door.

When he opened the door, Hermione stood on the landing half covered in fluffy white snow. Unlike Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor crew, she was dressed in Wizarding robes. A thick black outer robe cascaded down her shoulder like a drapery. Her inner dress was a dark crimson and gold that hinted of Gryffindor but did not scream it. Long dragon hide boots came up to her knees and seemed to hug her calves as though they her actual legs rather than something she wore.

“Harry,” Hermione greeted warmly, her arms half full of undelivered presents. She hugged him awkwardly due to the presents, but managed to pull him close in a warm hug.

“Hermione!” Harry stammered over himself. “I thought you were off with your parents on a skiing trip!”

“Do I really look the type to like skiing, Harry?” Hermione replied as a cascade of snow fell off her bushy hair. “I had exams to finish,” she explained. “I told you that before you left for break.”

Harry had to admit she was right. “Not really…” Harry noticed a shining circle of metal and gems at her collar. There was a sigil there, marking her throat with an official and almost possessive authority. There was something familiar about the sigil that he couldn’t quite place. On the opposing collar was another emblem with the crest of Hogwarts emblazoned in relief upon the metal.

Harry stared at her, somewhat dumbfounded, until something even more startling stepped out from the heavy snowfall by Hermione’s side.

The tall dark figure of the Potion Master of Hogwarts stared down at Harry with his dark obsidian eyes. “Mr. Potter,” his velvet voice rumbled a greeting in the same tone that bespoke of abused potion ingredients and painfully horrible detentions.

Just as Harry was about to interrogate Hermione as to why she would have arrived with his hated Potions Professor, Sirius stepped in from behind him. “Severus!” Sirius said warmly. “Glad you could make it. I was worried the owl got lost in the blizzard. I was almost going to strap a barrel around my neck and go searching the snow banks for you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as his godfather took Severus by the hand and dragged him into the house. Harry gave Hermione a wide-eyed look that asked about a hundred different wordless screaming questions at once. All of them started with “why are you dressed like that” and ended with “why are you with Snape?”

“I see you wasted no time pinning the girl, you efficient git,” Sirius smirked as he took Severus’ travelling cloak and hung it on the nearby cloak hanger. “Kingsley sent word that she’d passed all her exams and made it all official. Dumbledore doesn’t waste time.”

“Does he ever?” Snape answered with a sniff.

“Hrm… there is that,” Sirius agreed. “Moony, you mangy wolf, get over here and help Hermione with all of her packages!”

Remus appeared out of nowhere and grinned at Hermione, relieving her of her armful of packages. “You’re looking all official now, Hermione,” he cooed, hurrying off to set the packages under the tree.

Little Vik had his claws wrapped around a large flask of cooking oil, and he was fluttering towards the kitchen with determination. Molly squealed with delight as she took the oil from the dutiful hippogriff and clutched the little creature to her bosom as she waved to Severus and Hermione. “Bought time you two made it,” Molly fussed. “Put your things up in your room and get washed up for dinner. You’re a sight to be seen.”

Sirius gave Severus a look that translated into “It doesn’t matter how old you are. You are never too old to be fussed over by Molly Weasley.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Ginny squealed as she came around the corner, grabbing Hermione by the hands and was completely oblivious to Severus standing in the entryway. “Come up and see our room!” The youngest Weasley dragged Hermione by the wrist up the winding staircase, bowling over Kreacher as he shuffled slowly from one hidden niche to another.

Remus and Sirius herded Severus into the kitchen to chat with the rest of the adults where Molly had Kingsley dutifully chopping nuts for her pecan tarts and Moody measuring out cups full of oil and milk, while Tonks looked somewhat baffled as she shoved her hands full of stuffing into the open cavity of one of the Christmas pheasants. Sirius rolled Arthur’s chair over to the kitchen so he could join in on the social events.

Meanwhile, in the recently vacated dining room, Ron, Harry, Fred, and George stared at each other in speechless confusion. None of them were sure, but the current consensus was that Hell had indeed frozen over and somehow Severus Snape was at the heart of it.

When the doorbell rang again, and Sirius went to the door, Minerva McGonagall came sailing in with a gargantuan Christmas pudding balanced on her hand, and Dumbledore wandered in after her, carrying a basket of brightly wrapped holiday candies and countless holiday fruitcakes.

Molly let out a yell of welcome from the kitchen, beckoning the late arrivals with her flour covered hands.

Dumbledore smiled as he put the bundle he was carrying down on the dining room table with Minerva’s holiday pudding. He winked at Harry just before he too was herded into the kitchen with the adults.

“Unhand me, you flour covered woman,” Severus yelled, staggering up the staircase to clean up for dinner as rambunctious laughter filled the kitchen. Two large flour coloured hand-prints covered Severus’ dark robes…one on his shoulder and the other quite clearly in the middle of his arse.

The young boys in the dining room stared at each other with speechless horror. It was a picture of Severus Snape that they would never be able to unsee, and their mother was to blame.

Minds sufficiently broken, Fred and George started pelting Ron mercilessly with holiday coloured licorice snaps until their brother was rolling on the floor covering his face to hide from the biting candy. As their brother curled up in a foetal position on the floor they turned to Harry, looking even more mischievous as they reached towards the enchanted licorice whips.

“Ahhh! No!” Harry cried as he fled the table being chased by countless flying licorice whips.

Perfectly normal Christmas dinner… maybe for a bunch of Wizarding lunatics.

 


	43. Christmas at Grimmauld Place 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has his first really good Christmas at Grimmauld Place 12.

**Chapter 43: Christmas at Grimmauld Place Number 12**

“Ah, Severus, my boy,” Dumbledore said casually as he carried the roasted parsnips to the table for Molly. “Where is that Apprentice of yours?”

Severus turned his head slowly to meet Albus’ gaze. “I believe she is upstairs, Albus, giggling like a lunatic on a full-moon with the Weasley girl.”

Multiple pieces of silverware hit the floor and drinks were choked on in the next room by a certain group of adolescent boys, causing Severus to grit his teeth and cast his eyes towards the ceiling. “I’ll get you for this, Albus,” Severus held the thought in his mind very clearly as he met Albus’ eyes. Legilimens this, Old Man, Severus growled at him silently.

Dumbledore had a mad twinkle about his eyes, completely unfazed. He carried over the bread sauce to the table along with a tray of bacon-wrapped sausages. Minerva shuffled over with a tray of roasted potatoes and stuffing, laying it out on the table as she made a tutting sound to herself.

“Now, now, my boy,” Albus cooed. “Surely you aren’t still angry with me for forcing you to apprentice the girl?”

“Angry does not even begin to cover the adjectives I could assign to the situation,” Severus said with a curl of his lip.

“It’s for her own protection, Severus,” Dumbledore restated. “Surely you wouldn’t want her unprotected.”

“It is more a question of why you would wish her to be protected by me, Headmaster,” Severus grunted. “Surely Lupin would be more… amicable to the girl.”

“You’re not questioning my judgment, are you, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes flashing.

Snape turned his head sharply away. “No, Headmaster.”

“Ah good, good,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, shoving a serving pot of cock-a-leekie soup into the Potion Master’s hands. “She’s a very bright witch, Severus. She may surprise you how an eager mind makes for better company than you keep while brooding to yourself in that dungeon of yours.”

Severus did not answer as he heaved the pot of soup to the table, but he filled his mind with side thoughts about how at least dungeons made better company than certain senile older wizards.

Dumbledore’s mood seemed to brighten even more. “Oh, Harry, do go fetch Miss Granger and Miss Weasley from upstairs. We wouldn’t want them to miss out on the beginning of dinner.”

There was a stumbling and rustling sound in the adjacent room. “Erm… yes, sir,” Harry’s voice said sheepishly. The boy dashed up the stairs.

“I believe you mother is awaiting you to help move your father and his chair to the proper place at the table, Mr. Weasleys,” Albus said conversationally. “Shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

The three Weasley boys scrambled into the kitchen to help move their father back to the dining room table, stumbling over themselves not to look like they had just spent the last half hour with their ears stuck to the wall.

Albus looked at Severus and winked.

Snape closed his eyes and shook his head. Insufferable old man.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry had never had such a Christmas Eve. Replacing the memories of time alone with no one but himself in the earlier years and Hedwig in the later years, suddenly the house in which he made his home felt like home. The same house was full of people, decorated with garlands of holly and streamers. There was magical snow falling in the rooms that disappeared before it hit the ground and reappeared above to fall again.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered on the long table, chatting cheerfully to each other. And while Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George looked at Snape with askance, showering him with multiple glances of suspicion and outright disapproval, the Order members spoke with him as civilised people were more prone to do. And while Snape’s face often twisted into something akin to disgust at the overabundance of frivolity and merry-making, he did not break into rants or dress anyone down as he was known to do in his Potions Classroom.

Most baffling of all was the revelation that Dumbledore had ordered Snape to take Hermione as his Apprentice and he had done so, marking her with his magic as one would seal a document with his sigil. She was bound to him in a formal manner that he was only barely understanding due some piecemeal mumbles from Ron that gave him more questions than answers.

There were so many questions, but one thing was made abundantly clear. Dumbledore wished it so, and so it was done. The elder wizard seemed to think that of all the people sitting at the table, the greasy git of the dungeon was the best choice of people to temper her knowledge into wisdom, and Harry was having a really hard time of wrapping his mind around it. He knew he wasn’t the only one. Ron was looking positively sullen.

“He’ll have total control over her,” Ron muttered. “It’s worse than having a parent following you around everywhere.”

“What do you mean, Ron?” Harry asked as chewed on a pecan tart.

“Wizarding Apprenticeships… real ones… are sodding rare, and there is a good reason for it,” Ron explained. “It’s not like when you’re a Muggle and learning a trade. At least there, you can decide that it’s not for you and leave the Master. I mean there is still stigma and all that, but you CAN leave.”

Fred and George popped in next to them with a crack of apparition. “What are you two yammering on about?” they chimed together, chewing on a piece of fruit encrusted cake.

“Ron was trying to explain to me about Apprenticeships,” Harry sighed. “I don’t get why he thinks Snape will have control over Hermione now.”

Fred and George smacked Ron upside the head simultaneously. “Don’t be filling his head up with half-rubbish, Ron.”

“It’s not rubbish,” Ron snapped. “Dad told me before when old Jenny Faircircle apprenticed to Master Gregori Stemwinder. It’s like an unbreakable vow. They’re bound together.”

“Yeah, there is a bond, but you’ve been reading too much of the old Prophet claptrap,” Fred said.

“The Apprentice obeys the Master,” George said.

“But the Master protects the Apprentice,” Fred finished.

George rubbed his fingers across his chin. “Dumbledore knew that if Snape took her as an Apprentice that he would be bound to protect her. Not just any kind of protection either.”

“He’ll protect her with his life,” Fred said.

George smirked. “We may not like the sour-faced git,” George said.

“But, I can’t imagine a more scary wizard to have guarding my life short of You-know-who,” Fred finished.

“Why would he protect her with his life?” Harry asked, still not quite taking it in. “He hates Gryffindor.”

“It’s Old Magic, Harry,” Fred said.

“If he lets her die,” George continued.

“He could die too,” Fred finished.

“What do you mean ‘could?’” Harry asked.

“Old Magic is all about intent, Harry,” George explained. “It’s why they don’t teach us this stuff at Hogwarts, because if you cast the spells and mess up your intent, the spell can backfire and curse your family for the next fifty generations.”

“Even crazy blokes like us won’t even touch the stuff,” Fred said. “It’s too easy to mess something up. It’s like trying to wish on a genie and wishing vaguely. It never ends well.”

“But… you said he ‘could’ die,” Harry insisted, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Old Magic is almost sentient, Harry,” Fred said.

“It can tell the difference between intent and circumstance,” George explained.

“When Jenny Faircircle died in that horrible accident down in London, Old Gregori Stemwinder didn’t follow her. It wasn’t his fault, you see,” Fred explained.

“He was never quite the same though,” George said thoughtfully.

“Dad said he never saw him smile again after that accident,” Ron said.

“He never took another Apprentice either,” Fred said with a nod.

Harry stared out into the snow covered tree-scape outside the window, lost in thought.

“Come on, you two,” George poked Harry as Fred poked Ron. “Dad’s pulled out the Muggle boardgames to play.

“Yeah, and they are all playing Pictionary in the living room,” Fred said with wiggling eyebrows. “You know how horrible mum is with her drawings.”

“You mean fan-freaking-tastic,” George laughed.

Fred chuckled. “Lupin is playing battleship with Tonks and every time he gets close to one of her ships, her hair turns bright red.”

The twins dragged their little brother and Harry by the sleeve to be social with the rest of those at Grimmauld Place.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dumbledore and McGonagall took their leave shortly after the third round of Pictionary to return back to Hogwarts and attend the meals for those students who had chosen to stay for the Christmas holiday. They admitted that the list of people staying this year during the holiday was starkly small in comparison to previous years, and it didn’t take too much pondering to find blame on a certain Pink Menace for the change.

Tonks, who had been lively for most of the evening, had finally passed out by the fire on top of the lap of a bewildered looking Remus Lupin. The werewolf looked utterly flabbergasted to be in such a compromising position. He looked to Sirius as if for tips on what to do, but the dog animagus simply shrugged and grinned at him like Cheshire cat.

The adults shooed the children off to bed upstairs with amusement but no sympathy to their complaints. Molly cast an enormously fluffy quilt over Tonks and Lupin, causing Lupin to resign himself to being pinned down for the rest of the night by an unconscious Tonks.

Ginny dragged Hermione into their shared room with a flurry of giggling, and Molly marched up the stairs to shush her daughter lest no one in the house get to sleep. As the sound of multiple snoring voices came from the boys’ room, Ginny started giggling all over again.

Finally, as if summoned by the giggling, a dark figure appeared in the girls’ doorway, and cold obsidian eyes made ever more obvious by an ethereally pale face glared into the room.

Though he said absolutely nothing, Ginny meeped and dove under her covers as if to escape the monster in the closet, utterly silent.

Had Ginny not been trying to bury herself in the covers of her bed, perhaps she might have seen Severus’ mouth curve slightly upward in amusement.

:Goodnight, daughter,: he said calmly, inclining his head ever so slightly in the dimness.

:Goodnight,: Hermione embraced him with a mental hug. :Happy Christmas!:

Severus turned to leave the doorway, his dark robes spun in the dark with their typical flare. :Happy Christmas, Hermione,: he replied, disappearing into his guest room for the night.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione stretched and woke early in the morning feeling that reminded her that she shouldn’t have had that late evening drink or four she had guzzled before bed. She slipped out of bed on silent feet, shivering slightly as her unprotected human skin was chilled by the hardwood floors.

After relieving her abused bladder, she washed in the sink and stared into the mirror with a tired sigh, running her hand through her hair with a sleepy stroke. Shaking her head, she shrugged her shoulders and walked back into the room.

Ginny, finally passed out into deep unconsciousness only made possible by hours of hysterical giggling on the night previous, was out cold in all her drooling glory. Her hair was scattered every which way across her face, and her arm dangled down to the floor.

Attractive, Hermione though to herself. Truly.

Hermione shrugged off her nightgown and slipped on her chemise with a yawn, pulling her dark crimson robes on over it. She yanked the dark gold sash off the chair and wrapped her waist with it, looping and tying it towards the back so it would not get into anything. She turned her head a few times, hearing her joint crackle slightly, causing her to blink a little in surprise.

She grabbed the heavier outer robe off the end of the bed and pulled it on, draping it across her shoulders. The heavier fabric was comforting, especially in the cold of the morning, and she found robes to be strangely reassuring to her now. It wasn’t so long ago that she would have happily dressed “down” into Muggle jeans and a sweater outside of Hogwarts, but robes had so many more handy places to stash things.

As if to prove this, Vik wriggled out of her robe pocket from his hiding place and chirped happily in greeting, fluttering up to burrow into her flyaway hair. Hermione rubbed his wings with amusement, happy as always to have the little hippogriff’s company.

Remembering Ginny’s little winged horse, Hermione cast her eyes over to her sleeping friend and saw that her little horse was sprawled across Ginny’s neck, drooling much like she was.

Fitting, somehow, Hermione thought with a smirk.

Making her bed, she packed her sleepwear and miscellaneous back into her travel bag and then tucked the travel bag into her charmed bag, which she then tucked into the folds of her robes. Shaking her head, she knew between Severus’ “be prepared for anything,” the Durmstrangs’ “take it out like an enemy and apologise if it’s your friend later” philosophy, and Alastor Moody’s “constant vigilance,” she was going to be the most ultra-prepared paranoid gryphon in all of Europe.

Slipping out into the hallway, she made her way down the stairs. The mounted heads of a number of house elves decorated the walls, which had been disturbingly decorated with Father Christmas hats. Cringing slightly at the rather twisted tribute to Christmas, Hermione hurried downstairs a little faster.

Hermione saw the familiar figure of her Master standing in the kitchen. He was looking out the window, cradling a cup of tea. On the kitchen counter next to him, was a cup of tea. His free hand gestured to the second cup absently, as though shooing a cat off the counter. Hermione smiled, picking up the cup of tea gratefully.

:Good morning, my Master,: Hermione greeted him softly. She stood by him silently, leaning slightly into the drape of his robes, taking in his familiar scent with a smile.

:Good morning, my Apprentice,: he replied with a warmth that did not match his stoic expression. His black eyes scanned the snowy outdoor scene with seeming interest. :Did you finally extract all the giggles out of your… friend?: Severus’ mind voice paused at the mention of friend as if he was unsure as to what designator was best used.

Hermione chuckled in his mind. “I think you cured her giggles for the night, my Master,” she answered. “Which I thank you for.”

“Hnn,” Severus snorted verbally. :You are welcome: He sipped his tea with enthusiasm.

Hermione yawns softly, drinking down the remainder of her tea with a smile. :It doesn’t feel right when we aren’t all sleeping by the fire together. At least to me.:

Severus put his tea cup down into the sink and placed his hand gently upon her head, soothing her hair. :I too, have come to feel more comfortable in the company of a certain overgrown catbird, a climate displaced inland taipan, and a dog with a peacock identity crisis.:

Hermione chuckled as rinsed out their cups and placed them on the drying rack. :Don’t forget the birds.:

:How could I forget them?: Severus asked, his mind-voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione snorted, echoing her Master’s own only a few minutes earlier. She pulled out a small package from her robes and held it out to him. :Happy Christmas, Father.:

Severus took the package tentatively, looking suspiciously at it as though it might spring to life and clamp onto his nose. Slowly his finger worked under the coloured paper and tape, undoing the wrappings.

Nestled in the unwrapped paper was a black lacquered box, inlaid with delicate pearl and turquoise. On the surface was four different coloured birds flying in a united circle. In an inner ring below them was a serpent biting its own tail like ouroboros. In the centre of the box was a yin and yang like merging of a gryphon entwined with a simurgh. Emblazoned above was the form of a great owl, casting his wings over them all as though sheltering the group from all comers. The side of the box had an inlaid cat, looking as though he was chasing the small figure of a certain hippogriff along the sides of the box.

Severus ran his fingers across the box reverently, his black eyes fixed upon the inlays. :It’s beautiful. Thank you.: He tucked it away into his robe with the wrapping paper, hiding the evidence that he was ever given anything.

Hermione looked up at him with a smile, looking quite impish.

Severus reached into his robe and pulled out an elongated wooden box. The top was stained Slytherin green and had tasteful silver accents. He extended it to her silently.

Hermione took the box into her hands and moved her fingers over it, unsure as to whether she should open it or just admire the box.

Severus smirked at her, the corner of his mouth quirked upward sharply.

Hermione opened the latch on the box at last and gasped. Laying on a soft velvet were elegant metal finger claws, designed to fit over the fingers and two finely engraved bracelets that looks large enough to fit the ankles.

The claws were as beautiful as they were deadly, the ornate detail engraved on their surface was matched only by the sharpness of the claw tips. She slipped her hand into the fingertips, and they seemed to meld into her hand completely, the interlocking plates moved over her hand and down her wrist like gauntlets.

:Think “loricatus” as you envision the claws,: Severus said as she gaped at him.

Armour, Hermione though to herself. Loricatus.

Immediately, the metal claws sank into her skin and disappeared with a rush of heat. Hermione’s eyes grew wide and she slipped her other hand into the remaining claws, watching as it moved into place. Loricatus, she thought at them again, and the metal claws sank into her skin as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She concentrated on both hands and repeated the word again. The armoured claws spread across her hands like a living thing, solidifying into weapons that merged so well into her hands that they were hardly noticeable, even with the elegance of their making.

:The enchantment should stay with your gryphon form,: Severus said with amusement as he watched her summon and banish the claws from her hand over and over again in fascination. :They will change when you do… to help you against any further overgrown snakes that may be trying to take a bite out of you.:

Hermione looked at him with quivering eyes, her emotions surging forward despite herself. She looked around the kitchen desperately, checking with her senses to insure they were not being spied upon. With a rush, she slammed into Severus, wrapping her arms around him and mercilessly squeezing the life out from him before she stepped away and shrugged her outer robe back in place in an effort to look less emotionally compromised. :Thank you, Father,: she said with a verbal sniff.

Severus’ mouth twitched upward slightly as his dark eyes met his daughter’s. :You are welcome. No more giant snake bites, please.:

:Your will is mine,: she purred into his mind.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tonks was still quite passed out when Hermione and Severus made their way back into the drawing room. Lupin had finally managed to sleep at some point during the night, his head was laying back on the chair back with his mouth slightly open as he drooled slightly. Tonks was unabashedly still draped over the werewolf as if he were the comfy armchair.

Sirius had done well with his promise in making the Black Ancestral Home more livable, as all the rooms no longer looked as though decades had past without the slightest care. The hearth fire was still blazing warmly, the nearby Christmas tree was catching the light from the fire on all of the shiny ornaments. Even the old piano was shining with polish. All the portraits, save one, which Sirius kept covered with curtain, had festive decorations hanging from the frames.

When muffled screaming about “stains of dishonour,” “filthy half-breeds,” “blood-traitors,” and “children of filth” started coming from the portrait loud enough to wake the guests of the house up, Sirius looked ready to burn the entire hallway down.

“Why don’t you just get rid of that obnoxious portrait, Sirius?” Ron grumbled as he came down the stairs with Harry, his brothers, and one barely conscious Ginny.

“We’ve been trying to rid ourselves of that horrid tribute to my mother for months,” Sirius bemoaned. “But she apparently affixed the bloody thing to the wall with a permanent sticking charm.”

“She sometimes wakes me up screaming in the middle of the night that there is a filthy half-blood sleeping in her son’s room,” Harry admitted sleepily.

Arthur hobbled in escorted by a sleepy looking Molly, who once making sure Arthur was comfortably seated, shambled into the kitchen and started to make breakfast.

The portrait, however, continued to scream obscenities throughout the entire house, rousing the other portraits to scream back at her in various states of either agreement or disagreement.

“Sirius,” Hermione intoned neutrally. “How partial are you to that wall she’s mounted on? Any sentimental value?”

“Unless you count the time Regulus ‘accidentally’ surfed down the stairs and slammed into the wall riding a serving tray as children… I’m not overly partial to the wall, why?” Sirius replied, rubbing his hair as the portrait bellowed insults.

Hermione sniffed. “No reason,” she said, standing up and exiting the room with a whoosh of fabric that seemed taken out of the Severus Snape’s Handbook of Silent and Intimidating Exits.

Harry, Ron, Fred, Ginny and George cast Snape a somewhat accusatory glare in between trying not to make full eye contact, torn between what would normally be a typical response to anyone but the grumpy Potion Master of Hogwarts and the response that would less likely get them hexed into the next year without a pass. The Potion Master made no response, sipping his tea as though they weren’t even there.

There was an ear-piercing shriek of profanity that was cut off that came down from the hall. The shriek was followed by the sound of crunching, twisting, and something yet unidentified.

Lupin and Tonks were awake by this point, awkwardly parting from each other as Tonks realised what an embarrassing situation she had left the werewolf in. She blushed furiously as she stumbled off his lap and staggered over to a nearby chair, rubbing her hair and her ears as the reason she had been woken up became clear.

There was a sharp crack, and the chain of odd noises ceased. Every eye was peeled on the hallway as Hermione calmly walked back in with a small bundle under her arm. Her face was completely expressionless as she handed the bundle to Sirius. “Happy Christmas, Sirius,” she said cheerfully. There was plaster remnants falling from her right hand and arm, coating her skin in a grayish white later of dust and plaster particles.

“Come here, Ms. Granger,” Severus said sharply. “You look like you have been brawling with a wall.”

Hermione went to him immediately, head cast down as Severus pulled out his wand and cleaned the dusting of white powder and debris covering his Apprentice.

The audience staring at Hermione being cleaned off by her grumpy master was interrupted by Sirius bursting into laughter. He laughed so hard that it covered up the cursing and screaming coming from the bundle laid bare in his hands.

Nestled in the curtain that had once covered the full size portrait of Walburga Black was a section of wall with the now shrunken portrait of Sirius’ mother, carved directly out of the section of wall she once stuck herself to. Apparently, no amount of permanent sticking charms saved Walburga from being shrunken down and carved out of the very wall itself.

Sirius, enveloping Hermione in a bear hug, cackled into her hair. “You brilliant, marvellous, terrifying witch,” he laughed into her robes. “Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas,” Hermione squeaked, getting the life squeezed out of her.

“I would prefer if you did not crush my Apprentice to death in her first week with me, Black,” Severus sniped from his armchair. He set down his teacup and moved his head to the side as though it were on a swivel, staring Sirius in the eyes. “Whatever would I tell Dumbledore?”

Sirius released Hermione with a smug expression, gathering up the piece of wall and portrait in the fabric and carrying it off. “I’m going to go stick her in Regulus’ old room. She actually liked him.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione watched her friends tear into their Christmas presents with gusto. Little pieces of tape and wrapping paper flew in all directions. The adults had dragged themselves off into the adjoining room, exchanging their own gifts and light laughter. Well most of them had laughter. The Potion Master was as stone-faced as ever, but to his credit, silent in his crankiness.

Little Vik was in wrapping paper heaven. The hippogriff had dragged all the scraps of wrapping paper into a pile under the tree and nested within in, pecking at anyone with the audacity to attempt to dislodge him or steal from the pile.

Harry had given Ron a new broom compass, and Ron was holding like it was the only thing that mattered, ignoring the other presents he had had received. Sirius and Remus had given Harry Practical Defencive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts which made Harry smile. More things to bring to the table during the DA meetings after they returned to Hogwarts.

Hermione had given Harry something he’d never seen before, yet, his fingers could not stop tracing the webbing of the virtual spiderweb. Silken filaments shined in a web pattern between a bend branch, forming a spider-like web. Tiny gemstones were suspended in the strands, looking like tiny representations of the gemstones Firenze would lay out on his pedestals when teaching Divination. Hanging from the web, woven in with more crystal points and little carved representations of some of his favourite things such as his broom, were a number of spectacular feathers he had never never seen the like of. A dark gold feather hung next to a black feather that had a strange iridescence to it. Beside those was a dark feather that seemed to take in all the light around it. Surrounded the larger feathers were smaller feathers that looked as though they were crafted in fire and mist. Woven in between those were smaller brown mottle feathers that reminded him of the autumn forest floor.

“Hermione, it’s beautiful,” Harry boggled. “What is it?”

“A dream catcher, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. “Amongst the First Nations, many tribes believed the night was full of dreams. Good or bad. They would hang one above their children’s cradles to insure their children would have good dreams, while the bad ones would be caught by the web.”

Harry clutched the dream catcher close to his chest and gave Hermione a warm hug. “Thank you,” he said, realising that his friend had not been blind to his worries about his nightmares.

Harry reached under the tree to fetch a present, and Little Vik pecked him squarely on the fingers. “Ow! Stop that, you territorial little git! I’m not after your wrapping paper!”

Vik glared from inside his wrapping paper nest, not convinced.

“Let me help you there, Harry,” Hermione said, cooing to Vik as she lifted him out of the nest with ease, kissing him softly on the beak and rubbing his wings. Vik, no so unlike the Monster Book of Monsters! That Hagrid had inflicted upon his class once upon a time, chirped happily, rubbing against her fingers and her nose with an entire change in personality.

Harry snatched the package he had hidden under the tree and put it in Hermione’s lap.

Hermione gentle set Vik back into his wrapping paper nest, scratching the little hippogriff under the chin.

“You’d never know that little guy wasn’t just a real life hippogriff,” Harry said. “He’s just as entitled as the ones out in the Dark Forest!”

Hermione smiled. “I adore him,” she confessed.

Ginny’s little winged horse landed under the tree and gave a soft whinny to the nest of wrapping paper. Vik stuck his head out of his nest and chirped. The winged horse, who had still yet to given a name, snuffled the hippogriff and whinnied softly. Vik rustled around in the nest a little and the little horse joined him in the nest, cuddling up next to the hippogriff within the bright wrapping paper and ribbons.

Harry watched the antics with a soft expression, trying not to lose manliness points by cooing over the sickeningly sweet sight before him.

Hedwig hooted softly from the nearby perch, crunching on one of the edible holiday edition boxes of owl nuts Eeylops Owl Emporium had sold for wizards and witches to give their favourite owls. Harry and Hermione grinned at her as she crunched away on her holiday treats. Pigwidgeon was fluttering around her like a moth attracted to the candle flame, twittering like a lunatic and doing tricks, hoping his darnedest that Hedwig would share her holiday spoils with him. Hedwig eyed the little blighter with an owlish expression that seemed to tell him exactly where he could go, not that the little owl was listening.

Harry looked at Hermione expectantly, and she blushed before opening the present on her lap. She carefully undid the tape and ribbon with her finger and unwrapped New Theory of Numerology from the confines of the wrapping paper. “Harry, I’ve been wanting this book for ages! Thank you!”

Harry grinned at her, knowing that any book would have made Hermione happy, but he was glad it was one she actually had on her list. “There’s another present here for you, Hermione,” Harry said, snatching a small wrapped present out from under the tree, just barely avoiding the fast moving beak of a certain territorial hippogriff.

He tossed Hermione the package as he glared into the wrapping paper nest accusingly.

Hermione snickered, opening the smaller package and stared at it with puzzlement. Perfume? She unstoppered the top and sniffed it curiously, her eyebrow raising into her hair. Closing the perfume atomiser with a click, she shook her head. “Thanks for the unusual perfume, Ron,” Hermione said to Ron as he fussed over the compass Harry had given him.

“Oh yeah, you’re welcome,” Ron said, half-engaged. “Ginny said all the girls were into perfumes this year.”

Hermione gave Ron an odd look and shook her head. Harry shrugged at her with a clear expression of “don’t look at me! I didn’t do it!”

Fred and George appeared with a loud crack next to Harry. “Merry Christmas,” they chimed. “May not want to go in the next room for a while. Mum’s got Ginny in a headlock, refusing to let her go. Percy sent back his Christmas jumper.”

Harry looked to Ron, who was giving him the wide eyes.

“Didn’t even bother to sent a note or anything,” George said with a shake of his head.

“Didn’t even bother to ask how Dad is… didn’t even visit… or anything,” Fred said with a scowl. “Charlie and Bill at least sent thank you notes and pictures of where they are.”

Ron scooted closer to the group of them, shaking his head. “Mum is really taking this thing with Percy hard.”

“What is going on with Percy?” Harry asked. “I haven’t heard or seen him since he graduated.”

“He’s done lost himself at his job, Harry,” Ron said. “Ever since he got his job at the Ministry, he’s fallen in with their smear campaigns. He even has rows with Dad… over really stupid stuff.”

“If by stupid, you mean Percy not believing Dumbledore when he says the Dark Lord is back,” George interjected.

“Honestly, our brother has gotten so wrapped up with being promoted and being someone better, that he’s adamant that anyone who believes there is a person out there trying to bring about a second war is completely nutters, and he wants everyone to know it,” Fred said in agreement.

“Yeah, he sent me a long letter by owl telling me I needed to basically get my head out of my arse and dump Harry as sa friend,” Ron said with a sigh.

Harry scrunched his face together. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “He’s completely lost it, Harry. It’s why mom is so upset. She’s wondering where she went wrong.”

“Not like it’s her fault Percy can’t figure out which end of his wand to hold,” George muttered.

“Poor Ginny is going to be stuck being Mum’s comfort for a while,” Fred said. “Lupin is trying to talk her down from her hysterics, but we all know better than to say anything. We’ve tried to tell her that Percy isn’t worth the pile of rat droppings he resembles, but it never makes her feel better. She just wails and starts either clutching one of us like we’re going to die or starts throwing things.”

Hermione and Harry exchanged worried glances.

Ron and his brothers just shook their heads. “There’s really no thing we can do right now, ‘cept let her work her way down.”

Suddenly, Vik darted out of his wrapping paper nest and chirped in alarm, his wings pinned to his sides as he stared down the hallway where Sirius had disappeared earlier to banish his mother’s portrait.

“Filthy half-blood!” came the portraits shrill voice. “Get out of my son’s room!”

Whether is was because the adults were too used to the sound of the arrogant portrait’s screams to think them out of the ordinary was yet to be seen, but something was tipping off the little hippogriff, and Vik had proved himself many times to be an excellent watch-beast.

An instant transformation came over Hermione, and the at ease posture she had with her friends became something stiff and calculated. She was on her feet in an instant, her hand touching Vik gently and shushing him into her hair, where he obediently stayed. Her lips were parted slightly as she sucked in a rush of hair, almost as if she were going to hold her breath and dive under water. She released her breath slowly, but her eyes remained on the hall corridor.

Her wand was already in her hand, and she was moving down the hall with calculated steps, leaving Harry, Ron, and the twins staring at each other with confusion.

It wasn’t until Snape moved into the room from the adjoining room, his face unreadable as he started at the boys before turning to look down the hall, that the group of them realised something was amiss— something that the little hippogriff had picked up on, Hermione had gone into action over, and Snape had somehow been alerted all within the course of a few heartbeats of time.

There was a yell, shortly after, and the sounds of a struggle, a clatter, and the spilling of things. At this point, Moody and Tonks were running down the corridor, and curiosity drew Harry, Ron, and the twins down the corridor after them.

Hermione had a balding man with light skin by the throat lying supine on his back and staring at Hermione as though she were Death Himself. Hermione’s hand was clutched around his neck like a vice as her opposing hand held her wand to his neck. Her knee was flush between his legs, pressing down mercilessly on places the male gender would prefer to be left ignored, and her opposing foot pressed down on his wand wrist. Her face was feral, her lips parted in a half snarl, and it would not have surprised Harry at all had she exposed fangs like she had when she had been polyjuiced into a cat. What was most unnerving of all, was that Hermione made no sound at all. She was taut as a spring.

The man had a bag gripped in his opposite hand, and it looked like he was going to make use of it as leverage and beat Hermione off him as Moody reached down and snatched it away, pressing his wand to the man’s throat in tandem.

“Mundungus,” Moody hissed, trailing the “s” as though the letter itself was offensive. He pressed his walking cane tip into the balding man’s hand and leaned on it, throwing the bag to Tonks. “Check it.”

“A…alastor,” the balding man groveled. “I hadn’t expected to see you on this…f…ine Christmas morning. I see you’ve been teaching another witch some of your fine tricks.”

Moody scowled down at the balding man. “I have him, lass, release.”

Hermione did not move at first, but slowly, like the first trickle of the spring thaw, she pulled her wand from his throat, then her hand from his neck, and only then did she move her knee from between his legs as she stood up. It was then that Severus moved in between them, his wand pointed directly at Mundungus’ face, using his body both to physically touch Hermione’s and to press her behind him.

“Get…up,” Severus said in a voice so low it could have been a rumble of distant thunder.

As Mundungus slowly and carefully stood, Tonks spilt the contents of the bag on the nearby hall table. Goblets, silverware, trinkets, and jewelry trickled over the table.

“I was just getting them appraised,” Mundungus stammered. “So much time since they’ve been properly evaluated, you see.”

“Ms. Granger,” Severus said without a change in expression. “Fetch Black.”

And like a switch had been turned, Hermione’s stance changed completely. “Yes, Master,” she said formally, and ducked back down the hallway, not even bothering to look her friends in the eyes as she passed.

Harry and the Weasley boys exchanged glances, torn between following Hermione’s exit or staying to see what was going down between this person named Mundungus and Moody.

They did not have to decide, as shortly after she disappeared, Hermione reappeared with Sirius hot on her heels.

“Potter, pull that chair over here,” Moody barked, used to being obeyed.

Harry grabbed the chair that was down the hall and dragged it back. He put it by the bald man.

“Have a seat, Mundungus,” Moody snapped and the man sat immediately. Moody waved his wand and ropes surrounded him and the chair.

He picked up Mundungus’ fallen wand on the floor and tucked it away. “Those items your family’s?” he directed to Sirius.

“Yes, you can see the family mark on the silverware and the goblets,” Sirius confirmed. “I recognise the jewelry except for that pendant in the middle.”

“Well that was mine, of course,” Mundungus blurted. “My lucky locket it is.”

Sirius furrowed his brows at the locket.

“I’ll believe that when I have a Iron-belly dragon for my Uncle, Mundungus,” Moody barked.

As Sirius reached for the locket, Harry hissed and touched his scar, causing multiple things to happen. Sirius stopped his movement and went to Harry, Moody grabbed Mundungus by the collar, practically lifting him off the ground, and Severus cast something towards the locket, suspending it in the hair in a globe of shielding magic.

“Who sent you for this?” Moody hissed at Mundungus.

“No one! It’s just a good luck charm!” Mundungus groveled.

“Do you always keep Dark Magic around as luck charms, Mundungus?” Moody roared at him.

“Ah… no!” Mundungus squirmed. “I mean, it looks a lot like my lucky charm, I could be mistaken.”

Moody clutched Mundungus even more closely by the collar. “I’ll take Mundungus. Snape, make sure that thing is bound properly, and Tonks, search that room he just came out of and make sure there isn’t anything else hiding in there. Black, you had better help. Maybe you’d recognise something out of place faster. Granger, send a message to Dumbledore that we have a meeting A.S.A.P.” Moody dragged his captive down the hall and out the door and across the street and with a CRACK he was gone with Mundungus in tow.

And with a flurry of movement, everyone Moody had barked orders to do set about their tasks.

The boys watched Hermione scribble a message on a piece of parchment and tie it to Vik. The little hippogriff chirped concern to Hermione, rubbing up against her fingers. “To Albus Dumbledore, sweetling,” she whispered to the little hippogriff. “Hurry.”

The little hippogriff hovered in the air, chirped once, and darted down the hall and up the floo.

She stood as Severus moved his wand over the locket he had dangling in mid air.

Harry walked closer. It was whispering. He could almost make out what it was whispering. If he could just get closer to it and touch it…

Suddenly, Severus extended his hands out, and Hermione placed her hands in his. Their wands pointed inward at each other to the floating locket. The closed their eyes as a cold wind rose between them, swirling around the locket.

Harry grabbed his head. There was a howling in his head, demanding that he take the locket and protect it at all costs.

“Harry!” hissed a male voice in his head.

His scar burned hotter than ever.

There was a flash of energy between Snape and Hermione and there was an orb that solidified around the locket, and the moment it did, Harry no longer felt the pain or the voice in his head. It was quiet again. He found himself half on his back, cradled by Ron, Fred, and George.

“Are you okay, Harry?” they asked him in concern.

“You looked like you were trying to get your hands on that locket, and then you just fell backwards,” Fred said.

Harry nodded dumbly. “I’m okay. I think.”

Hermione and Severus had closed their hands upon the locket, and beneath their hands, a box formed, encasing the locket in both stasis and a physical shield.

Harry struggled to his feet, and then everything went sideways and black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry groaned, his hand going to his head automatically.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly.

Harry tried to focus, but only saw the dark robes of whom he did not immediately think of Hermione Granger.

A soft chirp of a small hippogriff greeted him as Hermione’s warm brown eyes looked down at him. A small inquisitive hippogriff was snuffling his face and looking at him with curious black eyes. Hermione was at his bedside with a cup of tea, her black robes cascaded across her shoulders like folded wings. She looked very much like her Master, but her eyes were friendly and her expression was the same old Hermione that chided him whenever he did something exasperatingly stupid.

“What happened?” Harry groaned.

Hermione handed him the cup of tea as he sat up slowly, which he took and sipped gratefully.

“The locket was Dark magic, Harry,” Hermione said softly. “Very Dark.”

“Why am I waking up in bed?” Harry complained.

“The locket wanted a saviour,” she explained. “It apparently wanted you.”

“Why is it always me?” Harry moaned.

Hermione looked sad and thoughtful. “I think we’ve been trying to figure that out since we were eleven, brother,” she smirked. “Neville might disagree and say it’s actually him that keeps getting… hung by chandeliers by Cornish pixies, for example.”

Harry took her hand with his free one and squeezed it. “Honourable mention then.”

“Okay,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Where is everyone?” Harry asked.

“Fred, George, and Ron are trying to spy on the adults having a meeting downstairs,” Hermione said. “Ginny is trying to spy on Fred, George, and Ron trying to spy on the adults.”

Harry almost spit out his tea. “I see.”

“It’s quite comical, actually,” Hermione admitted.

Harry’s face turned serious. “How did you know that bald fellow… Mundungus… How did you know he was there?”

“I didn’t,” Hermione replied. “Sirius’ mother sounded the alarm.”

“But she was screaming those half-blood and mud-blood obscenities all morning. How was it any different?” Harry asked.

“Because the only half-bloods and mud-bloods weren’t anywhere near her, Harry,” Hermione said. “Remember how Sirius said he’d take her into the one room of the one person she actually liked?”

“Oh,” Harry said as realisation dawned. “Oh right! Why is it you always remember things like that?”

Hermione chuckled. “Someone has to.”

Harry brought Hermione into a hug. “This feels kind of awkward now. It’s like I’m hugging Snape.”

Hermione shoved Harry with her palm. “Professor Snape, Harry.”

Harry grinned at her. “It’s going to take some getting used to, Hermione. You have to realise it’s a lot to take in.”

“Consider how I feel, Harry Potter,” Hermione said with an arched brow.

Harry waved his hands in surrender. “I know, I know… just… give me some time to get comfortable with it, okay?”

Hermione smiled. “Okay.”

“I wish they’d swear me into the Order,” Harry confessed. “I’m a bit jealous.”

Hermione tilted her head and peered at him.

“I want to fight too, Hermione,” Harry said. “I want to be able to defend my friends and the people I care about.”

Hermione took in a deep breath. “You are helping your friends, Harry. Dumbledore’s Army is helping your friends help themselves. That is not a small thing. It’s a grand thing. And many of them do not have anyone else to help them. They are relying on you. And Hogwarts itself seems to agree.”

Harry brightened. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Hermione smiled at him.

Harry hugged her again. “Do me a favour then?”

“Hrm?” Hermione asked.

“When we get back to Hogwarts. Can you teach the next DA full-bodied patroni with me? It’s advanced stuff, and I’d really like someone there that can cast one helping me,” Harry coaxed.

Hermione’s lips pressed into a line, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Okay, Harry,” she agreed. “You have a deal.”

Harry beamed at her genuinely. “Hey, Hermione,” he poked her.

“Hrm?” Hermione replied.

“You’re really scary when you don’t trust someone,” Harry confessed.

Hermione gave Harry a broad grin.

“Time for dinner!” Molly’s voice yelled from the bottom floor.

Hermione and Harry grinned at each other and scrambled down the stairs to partake of dinner, practically bowling over Fred, George, and Ron in their haste to get to the table. And just as they were finished hiding their extendable ears, Ginny bowled past them, knocking them down again as she made her way down to the dinner table.

The three Weasley boys lay flat on their back at the top of the stairs, groaning for mercy.


	44. A Father's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack enjoys some time together are the post-Christmas drama.  
> Viktor has fan-mail.  
> Hermione has giant issues.  
> Harry realises just what his father was really like at his age.

**Chapter 44: A Father’s Son**

Hermione flopped on the cushion in front of the fire and rolled directly onto her back, rolling back and forth with her wings spread out. It felt absolutely wonderful to be back in her gryphon form once more. As much as she loved being with familiar people for the Christmas holiday, not being able to be in what had become as natural to her as breathing was very difficult.

Viktor and her Sky Brothers seemed as relieved to have her close again as she was to see them and it wasn’t just limited to her. Elemental birds and one enthusiastic simurgh piled up together, snuggling up to Severus as he attempted to get some reading done by the fire. The only thing missing was Draco, who was sadly occupied being social with his blood family.

Draco had left presents under the tree in the residence in Hogsmeade. He sent thank you owls for the presents he had liberated from under the tree before he left on break. Hermione was glad that he had loved the fluffy dark emerald green blanket she found for him. That was one thing about being an animagus that was very comfortable in their other form. The human form always seemed colder somehow. Even Draco had complained of how whenever he shifted back that if he wasn’t by the fire he felt like he wanted to be, and he wasn’t even like Viktor and Hermione who exuded heat like it a mobile furnace.

The Sky Brothers had given Hermione a delicate crystal carving of a gryphon and a simurgh entwined together, which she placed in her room above the store with reverence. They had accepted her gifts of ornately carved old wood perches. Each one was decorated with hanging crystals that matched their element and wrapped with a soft fabric around the perch that was charmed to resist damage but remain comfortable to their feet. They happily placed them around the hearth to claim their own little spaces in the communal room.

Viktor and his brothers had given Draco a care-package for the next big Quidditch game between Bulgaria and Japan. Apparently they had teamed up and stuffed the package with everything from the tickets to the game, the transportation to the game, lodging, and about fifteen days worth of food “just in case something happened.” Hermione had found the gift utterly amusing even though Quidditch was not exactly her thing by any means.

Viktor often returned from his Bulgarian Quidditch games smelling like far too many people and foreign soils, which he promptly showered off upon returning home and then resaturated himself with the more welcome scents of home and his adopted family. He was always more cuddly with Hermione on his return in either of his forms, but she wasn’t arguing.

He did still love his Quidditch games, and he received hundreds upon hundreds of fan-mail, proposals for marriage, endorsements offers, and hundreds more free gifts from Wizarding companies that hoped he would wear or use their which or whatever thing in public. Hermione and her Sky Brothers usually ended up sitting with his piles of mail, sorting through his mail for him. Oh if the fans really knew who went through their letters, they would probably die of embarrassment.

Viktor had stared at one letter that was practically dripping with Amortentia. The horrible pink stationary stuck out of the envelope thanks to Viktor’s using his wand to open it rather than his hands.

Valko had ribbed him. “Afraid of letter, brother?”

Viktor curled his lip at it. “Da. It smells like Home and Hermione. Only one ting could be.”

Valko sniffed the air around the letter. “Oi. Vanish it.” he confirmed.

Viktor vanished the offending love letter, not even bothering to read the rest of it.

The Christmas season brought even more fan letters and packages than usual, and it took several hours to sort through the edibles offerings and confirm there was nothing “wrong” with any if it before sharing it amongst the group. Fruit cake, tarts, candies, home-made pastries, meat pies, sausages, cheeses, and countless other foods covered their tables. After picking out a humble section of the food they could at least hope to eat before it went bad without gratuitous stasis spells, they packed up the rest and transported the rest to a small Wizarding shelter for those in need during harder times.

Even after donating the majority of the food that had arrived, all of their larders were filled to the rim with preserved food. They had stuffed so much food into the storage rooms of Severus’ pantries that he would not have to leave them to eat for a good part of the next year, if he so chose.

They had handpicked quite a few choice items and placed them in a large basket for their centaur allies, filling it with things that would be tasty and different from their normal fare as to not insult their own traditional foods. The Sky Brothers had taken many of the blankets they had received in Victor’s fan-mail and sewn leather belts and buckles upon them so they were the prefect size to be worn over a horse sized back and fastened securely without restricting movement.

As they landed into the centaur camp, Magorian greeted them warmly, welcoming them to join them by the fires. Viktor handed them the basket of foodstuffs as his brothers gave out the blankets. Severus passed Magorian a smaller basket of healing balms and wraps.

Hermione’s little filly sneaked up to her side, bumping up against her with a soft whicker. Magorian smirked at her as Hermione hugged the little filly with a smile and brushed her coat out for her until it was shining. She took one of the smaller blankets and wrapped it over her back, buckling it in place. The filly squealed in delight and pranced around her dam to show off her prize, gaining the mother’s amused look and the herd’s whickers of approval.

“She hasn’t begun to speak English yet,” Bane said as he lowered the roast over one of the fires, “but we have placed bets that her first word will be ‘Hermione,’ then ‘brush,’ and maybe only then ‘mom’ or ‘dad.’”

Hermione blushed a significant shade of crimson at the betting.

Now that the little filly was showing off her blanket, some of the other young colts and fillies were sneaking closer to the camp, peaking out from under their dams’ legs with shy curiosity.

The Sky Brothers beckoned to them patiently, waiting for them to be brave enough to come closer and claim a blanket for themselves. After about an hour of patience, all the young colts and fillies had their own blanket and gathered together showing their backs to each other with a sort of pride that only the very young can have over something they adore.

Bane and Firenze distributed the basket of foods to the entire herd, making sure every member had something before they took a piece for themselves.

The little filly’s dam led her daughter off into the woods, perhaps on some errand that needed to be done, and Hermione looked after them sadly, already missing the little filly’s company.

“Magorian,” Hermione asked. “Would it be too forward of me to ask the little filly’s name?”

Magorian smiled at her with amusement. “She does not have a name yet. She will name herself when the time is right. Be deed or by self proclamation.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“Like this one,” Magorian snagged one of the prancing colts near him. “This one is named Puddles, because he cannot keep his feet out of them.”

Puddles blushed a little, but his feet kept moving. It wasn’t hard to see how he got his name.

Hermione grinned. “Pleased to meet you, Puddles.”

The colt smiled and blushed, hiding behind Magorian’s legs a little.

The elder centaur shoved his rear into Puddles to force him back out from behind him. “Hide from your enemies, youngling, not your allies.”

Puddles gave them all a shy smile.

“It is okay,” Severus said softly. “We can be… a lot to take in at once.”

“It is true, Owl Master,” Magorian said with a grunt. “Long has it been since we had allies that numbered more than one could place a hand.”

An equine scream and whinny broke the calm and immediately every centaur and animagus was on alert. The foals all dive under their dams immediately, and many of the male centaurs circled their females and young with their bodies, weapons drawn.

Without a word, Hermione and Viktor were on all fours, bounding towards the sound of the scream. Severus and the Sky Brothers were in the air, and while Magorian and Firenze stayed behind with the group protecting the young, Bane followed Hermione and Viktor with a small group of warriors.

What Hermione saw as she bounded towards the sounds of distress made every hair on her body stand on end. A huge full moon face with huge yellowed teeth bared at her as what could only have been a giant held the filly’s dam in his hands, crushing her body in his stony grip. He looked ready to bite of her head and eat her, and at that point, Hermione Granger was no longer Hermione the Reasonable. Hermione was rage incarnate.

Hermione took to the air in tandem with Viktor with a scream of eagle fury, her talons extended as the enchanted armour flowed over her talons and spread across her body. Her front talons sank deep into the arm of the giant as her beak snapped loudly towards the giant’s malformed face.

The moment her talons sank into his arm, her rear claws flailed outward automatically, jerking backwards and raking across the giant’s arm, leaving gashes down the arm that would have killed a creature that was not so thick skinned as a giant.

Non-lethal or no, the giant bellowed, and dropped the filly’s mother to the ground.

The Sky Brothers swirled around the giant’s head, covering his head with a circle of fire, smoke, mist, and dirt, blinding him of his prey. Severus landed by the filly’s dam, immediately pouring something upon her crushed legs and binding them with bandages as he waved his wand over her and themselves to put a shield over them. The female centaur heaved on the grass, injured, but alive.

The young filly squealed in terror, trying to make her way back to her dam, but the giant, blinded as he was, still heard her and his hand snaked out in a flash, grabbing the terrified filly in his huge hands.

If there had been any reason left in Hermione’s mind at that given point, there was nothing left to be had the moment she saw the little filly being enveloped by a giant’s hand.

Hermione screamed, her eagle shriek of rage was so piercing that the giant winced and turned his head, shaking it in disorientation. Hermione descended upon the giant’s forearm, sinking her talons into the giant’s flesh as her beak went for the tendons in his arm. But before she could rake her rear talons a cross his arm like she had on his opposite arm, his free hand came down and crushed Hermione in his hand. Her larger body was not something easily crushed, nor was it as small as human or young centaur’s, but the painful grip around her chest cracked her ribs audibly and she screamed, clamping her beak around a nearby finger, using her beak like a can opener on his flesh.

Even as Hermione struggled, the wrathful blur that was Viktor landed upon the giant’s arm and his powerful jaws clamped upon the giant’s skin and tore into it as his forepaws dug claws in for purchase. His rear legs pumped upwards as his dagger-like talons extended fully like an eagle going in for a fish, and he raked his rare talons down the giant’s arm, sending rivulets of blood streaming down the giant’s arm.

The giant released both the filly and Hermione, and Hermione immediately let out a roar of fury as her wings fanned out, her talons dug into the ground, and she put herself between the giant and the terrified filly, who now clung to her back for desperately needed reassurance.

A sense of sentience seemed to creep back into Hermione’s eyes at the filly’s touch, and she slowly backed the filly up towards Bane and his fellows, who were releasing arrow after arrow at the giant, but each arrow seemed to just stick in him but no nothing to deter him. The giant swung at Viktor, and Viktor released his grip to avoid the swing, landing next to Hermione with a growl, his fangs were bared as he placed himself between the giant and Hermione, much as she had placed herself between the giant and the filly.

The giant paused, as if suddenly realising the extent of his pain and why he was hurting. He grabbed his bleeding arm and retreated into the woods.

Bane was snapping orders to his fellows, and some of them broke off to pursue the giant.

Severus released the shield and disillusionment on himself and the filly’s dam. The female centaur was standing again, albeit shakily, but whickered softly as Bane and the remainder of his party surrounded her, helping support her as they guided her back to the camp. Severus picked up a small basket full of herbs that she and her daughter had been gathering before the attack and handed it to Bane.

Bane took the basket grimly and handed it to one of his fellows to carry before trotting over to where Hermione and Viktor were regaining their ability to reason. The Sky Brothers had already landed and were hugging them around the body and the neck, pressing their scents into their comrades to help bring them around. It wasn’t until Severus stood between them, wrapped his arms under their necks and used his hands to pull their heads against him that Hermione and Viktor let out a long breath, their bodies sinking to the ground.

Hermione gave a pained grunt as the rush of the battle faded, her sides heaving. There was blood covering her talons, but it was not hers. Her sides heaved painfully where the giant had attempted to crush the life out of her but failed, her Christmas present from Severus having saved her so soon after being given.

“Hermione, revert so I can tend you,” Severus said softly, stroking her feathers gently.

Hermione shuddered against him and then lay in his lap, her dark robes were soaked in blood as her body trembled.

“Place her on my back, Owl Master,” Bane said, kneeling his front legs down. “Tend her back at the camp where the herd can watch over her.”

Severus and Aleksander moved her gently on Bane’s back.

“You too, Owl Master,” Bane directed. “Make sure she does not fall.”

Severus slowly moved in behind her, his arms wrapping around her body to keep her pinned between Bane’s back and himself.

Bane rose up on all fours and smoothly walked towards the camp.

The filly clung to Viktor, but pulled on him, eager to follow Hermione and where she knew her dam would be waiting.

Viktor rose on all fours wearily, giving the filly one or two reassuring licks, and walked back towards the camp as his brothers walked by his side.

After about an hour of fussing over wounds, Hermione was laying by the fire in an drowsy doze thanks to Severus’ tending. Viktor cast his wing over Hermione and held her close to his body. The little filly was clinging to Hermione like a burr as her own mother rested under a shelter by another fire as she recovered from the attack. The filly alternated between clinging to Hermione and Viktor and her dam, trotting back and forth dutifully to pay them equal attention.

“The half-giant disrespects us by bringing such a thing into our forest, Owl Master,” Magorian said as he poked the fire with a stick angrily. “He endangers our herd, and he endangers our allies. Had you been only human, the giant could have done far worse.”

“You are sure that Hagrid is to blame for a giant in the forest, Magorian?” Severus said carefully. Hagrid was overwhelmingly naive in his beliefs that many horrible things were harmless and misunderstood, but a giant was something new. Dumbledore had vaguely mentioned sending Hagrid off on some mission for him over the summer, but… Albus wasn’t the type to say “Hagrid, I need you to bring me back a giant and hide it in the Dark Forest for me.”

“Scouts have been bringing back reports of the half-giant tethering a giant to a tree in the deep woods for weeks now, but this is the first time the violence has come so close to our main camp where our foals are,” Magorian said.

“I sent trackers to follow the giant back to his retreat,” Bane said as he folded his legs under him to sit by the fire. “They should return once they find it.”

Magorian nodded grimly. “We may move our main camp once Chara is healed enough to move easily. We will send word when we do.”

Severus nodded.

“In respect to your known colleague, Owl Master, and our agreement with Dumbledore, we ask you to send word to your Headmaster to remove this dangerous giant from our territory before another of us is injured or killed due to the half-giants ignorance,” Magorian said. “At best, I would see him removed completely. At the very least, have him tether the giant where his forays into the dark forest do not have him stumbling across our foals and their mothers when they are out gathering herbs.”

Severus nodded again, grimly. “I shall.”

“Good,” Magorian sighed. He looked over to where the little filly had her arms wrapped around Hermione’s back as she snuggled into her and was fast asleep.

“For now, let us be thankful that none of our number were killed, and our allies remain with us during our times of need, as we shall to them,” Magorian said.

Severus watched Viktor’s gentle grooming of Hermione’s feathers and fur as she slept by his side. “As you say it,” he said softly. “So it shall be.”

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry found himself wishing the Christmas Break had been longer. The time spent with his friends at Grimmauld Place had been best he’d ever had, even with the drama caused by Mundungus and the locket.

Dumbledore had come and gone, looking all the more grim for the holiday. He and Moody took the locket “someplace safe” and that was the last Harry had seen either of them for the rest of the break.

Now, unfortunately, he found himself sharing memories that he had buried so deeply that he didn’t even remember them, and Snape had waltzed right into his mind and watched as Dudley and his gang of cronies had done their best to be at their worst for him in primary school.

Snape stared at him silently, his face expressionless, and while Harry would have thought to see the same amount of hate Harry had almost instinctively for the dark wizard, it seemed that his Potion Professor gazed on him with the impassiveness of a calm lake.

As Snape’s dark eyes bored into him, Harry turned his gaze away. Snape had told him that eye contact was important to Legilimency, and while the wand was also important, the highly skilled did not require it. What Snape did not tell him, however, was if he really needed a wand to bore into his mind. He used it every time… but did he need it?

Time and time again, Snape dove into his memories like his shields were only tissue paper. A few times he deflected him, but they were shaky deflections that he knew would not stand up to a second attempt.

“Control your emotions!” Snape snapped at him. “Discipline your mind!”

Harry was embracing Sirius in his memories, happy to finally have a home to call his own.

“I may vomit,” Severus said flatly as he pulled out of his mind.

“Stop it!” Harry gasped, trying to recover.

“This is what you call control?” Snape asked him.

“We’ve been at it for hours,” Harry protested. “If I could just rest!”

“The Dark Lord isn’t… resting,” Severus snarled into his face. He pulled back as if thinking of something in his head that shed some light on a subject only he knew.

“It may have escaped your notice, but life isn’t fair,” he said venomously. “Your blessed father knew that, in fact he frequently saw to it.”

“My father was a great man!” Harry yelled back at him.

“Your father was a swine!” Snape replied, flinging Harry back towards the opposite chair. He threw out his wand and pointed it at Harry. “Legilimens!”

Snape was in his memories again. This time the memories were of Hermione sitting at his bedside as she greeted him after his bought of unconsciousness. His robes and hers merged together as one in his mind, and he reflexively raised his own wand to protect his memory of Hermione. “Protego!”

Snape staggered, and his wand arm flew upwards and away from Harry. Harry’s mind lurched as his mind relieved memories that were not his, but oh did they feel like his. A hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner… A greasy-haired teenagers sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies… A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick— (OotP 502)

And suddenly, Harry Potter was standing directly in front of his own father.

At first, Harry was excited and happy. This was a memory of his father! Surely, he would get to see how wonderful his father had truly been.

And then, he realised that his father and the pack of friends that had become the Marauders were following Snape, who was tucking away a paper into his book bag with his books. They came up behind him like a pack of starving hyenas, heckling him and calling him “Snivellus” and “Snivelly.” Even Lupin, who Harry had believed to be the most well-mannered man he knew, walked behind his father without bothering to stop him as…

Snape’s wand went flying due to James’ Expelliarmus. Sirius backed his laughter in support of James. Snape, disarmed, was now being pelted with multiple horrible hexes and curses.

James Potter tied Snape up, suspended him by his legs, and then ridiculed him mercilessly. James Potter made anything that Draco Malfoy had said to him look like a simple “wotcher, Harry?” from Tonks. In fact… his father spewed out so many horrible things to Snape that it made Dudley and his gang look tame. At least Dudley didn’t cast scourgify into his mouth or suspend him by his legs and threaten to pull down his pants in front of countless witnesses.

“Leave him ALONE!”

A girl from the lake edge was running towards them now. Her thick, red hair was bright in the sunlight, framing her distinctively green almond-shaped eyes. It was Harry’s own eyes staring back at him. It was his mother.

“Leave him alone,” Lily repeated. She was glaring at James as if he was the worst of people. And at that very moment, Harry would have agreed. “What has he done to you?”

“Well,” James purred arrogantly, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…”

People around them laughed, and more spectators were gathering.

“Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?” James laughed, pointing at the danging Severus. He smiled cruelly, making a wand movement as Snape twitched helplessly in the air in front of a growing number of not-so-innocent bystanders.

“ENOUGH!” Severus’s voice hissed, and the older Severus Snape shoved Harry from his old memories.

“Enough,” Severus repeated, gripping the nearby table with his hand, steadying himself. His face was white with the kind of anger that dripped venomously from his frame.

Severus had Harry by the collar, his hands grasping it so tightly that his already pale flesh seemed even more bloodless due to the strength of his grip.

“I—” Harry tried to stammer, still reeling from the revelation of the true face of his father.

Severus glared into Harry’s face, his dark eyes seemed even more unfathomable than usual. “Your lessons are at an end,” Severus said so even and quietly that Harry’s blood ran completely cold.

“I… I need—” Harry stammered.

“Get… out,” Severus said venomously, his expression was was so lacking of emotion that was was suddenly infinitely more scary.

Severus had released the grip on his collar, dropping Harry’s feet to the floor once more.

Everything in Harry’s mind and body told him to flee Snape as fast as possible. This was what he had wanted for weeks— to be free of Snape’s ruthless teaching, but as his mind reeled from the memory of his father and what he had done… what Sirius has done… what Lupin had had not stopped, and what his own mother had tried to stop, he found something inside him had changed.

Harry fell to his knees, prostrating himself in front of Snape in a manner he had never done to anyone in his life. He used every muscle of his body to beg forgiveness for himself and the actions of the father he only just witnessed in all of his horrible teenage glory— the man who was so much like every person he had grown to hate under the foot of Dudley and the Dursleys.

He crawled in front of the Potions Master of Hogwarts, reaching out with his hands to touch Snape’s dragon-hide boots. “Please, Sir,” he said hoarsely, forcing every bit of willpower in his body to answer his call for this one moment of repentance. “Please… I don’t want to be what my father was. I want to protect my friends. I want to keep them safe. Please…. Please…”

Harry pressed his head to Snape’s boots, panting heavily. There were tears coming down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them as they christened Snape’s boots in what may have been the very first time they had ever been cried upon.

The silence was agonising. There wasn’t a sound save for the laboured breathing of a young dark-haired wizard pressing his forehead to the Potion Master’s boots. Harry could hear everything… the sound of rodents scurrying somewhere in the passageways and the sound of burbling cauldrons elsewhere in the room.

Suddenly, almost so light that he could have dismissed it as a breeze, there was a light touch of a hand on his head. “Get up, Potter. We start again.”

Harry felt a surge of relief as a hundred different emotions rushed forth at that very moment. He stood up, ready perhaps for the first time, to really listen to what Severus Snape was trying to teach him.

But as Severus’ dark eyes met his, his legs turned to jelly, and everything went black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry rubbed his head painfully as he woke. “Eugh.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione’s voice greeted him.

Harry startled awake and tried to sit up really fast.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Hermione said, her hand pressed him back down on… what appeared to be a chaise long couch. When did the laboratory get a couch?

“I made you the couch,” Hermione answered his silent question. “After I put you there to rest after you passed out on Professor Snape.” She offered him a cup of tea some seemingly out of no where.

Harry took it gratefully, still a little discombobulated. “I passed out?”

“Long hours, apparently,” Hermione said calmly. “Took their toll.” She was terribly calm, not like her more frantic self that usually manifested when she was fussing over him or Ron.

Harry looked at her, perhaps really looking at her for the first time. Hermione’s eyes were dark, her normal warm brown eyes were veiled with a layer of something deeper and harder to read. Her body, while relaxed, was still… almost unnaturally so, her outer robes draped across her shoulders like folded wings. If he hadn’t known her for so many years previously, he would have been intimidated.

As if she realised she was under scrutiny, she smiled at him, moving as if for his benefit. The overcast to her eyes seemed to fade, and the warmth in them seeped out again.

“Are you ready to take your Occlumency serious now, Harry?” She asked kindly. There was no fuss in her voice or nagging. There was none of the almost hen-peckery that she often used to encourage him to do something. It was just a question… a serious question.

“I saw my dad, Hermione,” Harry admitted painfully. “In Snape’s memories.”

Hermione tilted her head slightly, regarding him curiously. She waited, saying nothing.

“He was horrible to him… worse than Dudley ever was to me,” Harry confessed. “Worse than Malfoy at his worst.”

Hermione looked at him with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“I don’t want to be that man I saw, Hermione,” Harry said in a scared voice.

Hermione took his hand. “Harry, we all have the power to change. To be something better than what we may have though possible. And deep down, your father was more than what you saw.”

Harry shook his head. “There’s no way to know that. After what I saw…”

“Harry,” Hermione’s brows furrowed together, and her eyes were veiled again. “I know it.”

“How?” Harry said, pained.

“Because your parents had you, Harry,” Hermione said. “And you have a good heart— a brave heart. You want to protect your friends, and you can recognise when you’ve been wrong. If you believe you have the potential to be your father, then you have to also believe that he could change for the better as well— something you’ve already done.”

“How’s that?” Harry asked. “I don’t feel like I’ve changed.”

“You laid your head against my Master’s boots, Harry Potter, begging for a second chance,” Hermione said softly. “If he thought you had not changed, he would not have accepted it.”

“He told you?” Harry began to feel the blood rushing to his face.

“Who do you think he called to scrape you off his laboratory floor?” Hermione said with a smirk.

Harry hung his head and drank the remained of his tea. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” Hermione chuckled. “Look at the bright side. You didn’t have to polyjuice yourself into a cat to realise your short comings.”

Harry laughed and pulled Hermione into a hug. “You’re the best, sis. I love you.”

Hermione’s corner of the mouth quirked upward as her hand gently touched the back of his head. “I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books, what finally enraged Severus was Harry intentionally diving into the pensieve to see his withheld memories, but in the movie it was what he saw in Snape’s mind that drove him to end the lessons. I decided that the memories Severus used the pensieve for was to extract his memories of his adopted family, leaving his other horrible memories for Harry to stumble upon, which would, undoubtedly, piss Severus off, but not endanger the lives of his family if Harry knew them and leaked them off to the Dark Lord. Hope you liked my little twist on the entire (almost) end to the Occlumency lessons.  
> Study Break over. *sniffle* Back to being studious. Sometimes I wish I had Hermione’s resolve to study. I could really USE that sort of blind dedication to homework!


	45. Hassle the Umbridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master and Apprentice make Umbridge...uncomfortable.  
> Umbridge threatened Hermione.

**Chapter 45: Hassle the Umbridge**

Hermione winced as she lifted up the crate of ingredients from the floor as her ribs complained bitterly that it hadn’t been so long ago that a certain unknown giant had tried to squeeze her heart out of her ribcage by force. She hissed softly, bracing herself against the crate before heaving it up to the counter-top.

“Apprentice,” Severus said softly from behind her.

Hermione turned, wincing slightly. “Master,” she replied warmly.

“I warned you not to overexert yourself,” he admonished, pulling her against him.

Hermione took in her father’s scent with a sigh of relief, taking comfort in his presence that worked better than any painkiller she could drink.

“To my defence,” Hermione protested. “You’d been yelling at me to move that crate for a week.”

“I did not yell, daughter,” Severus said calmly. “I encouraged.”

“With an elevated verbal volume,” Hermione chuckled into his robes.

“Hnn,” Severus grunted, staring down at her face. He placed his hand on her head, soothing her hair gently.

“Is Harry improving?” Hermione asked, mumbling into his robes.

Severus sighed softly, continuing to stroke her hair as if to reassure himself as much as her. “He is improving at last,” he said. “He is, however, still a leaky water bucket.”

Hermione thunked her head against his chest. “Positive. Trying to think positive.”

“Let me know how that works for you, daughter,” Severus said, patting her gently.

Hermione took a deep breath, rubbing against her father to insure his scent was thoroughly imprinted upon her newly cleaned robes, and stepped away. “I’ll keep you posted,” she smiled at him.

Vik gave an alarm chirp, and dove into Hermione’s hair, causing Severus and Hermione to stand more stiffly, putting a larger distance between them as their faces slid into the impassiveness that darkened their eyes.

Severus put his hand into the ingredient crate and pulled out a jar, opening it, sniffing it, and passing it to her.

“Fluxweed,” Hermione said after sniffing the jar. She placed in the shelving unit.

Severus handed her another after sniffing it and looking inside.

“Bubotuber pus,” Hermione said, her nose quivering in distaste. She put it up on the shelf as well.

“Hem, hem,” Umbridge said from behind them.

Severus turned slowly around. “May I… help you, High Inquisitor?” Severus said in a monotone voice.

“What is it that you are doing, exactly?” Umbridge asked, with a curl of her lip.

“Sorting through potion ingredients,” Severus said in the same voice one might address a bottle of blowflies.

“And how, exactly, would you know what any of… this… is?” Umbridge asked icily.

“If you would… demonstrate to our High Inquisitor, Apprentice,” Severus said without a change in tone.

“Yes, Master,” Hermione replied immediately. She picked up a jar of something. She lifted it up to eye it. “First you examine the contents from the outside to get an idea of what may be inside.”

Hermione unstoppered the lid. She looked inside. “Then you confirm by examining in contents.” She wafted her hand across the top of the jar. “Runespore eggs, for example.”

“By all means, High Inquisitor, check my Apprentice’s work,” Severus said. He gestured to the jar. “I do not tolerate incorrect identification of basic potion ingredients in my Apprentice.”

Hermione passed the jar over to Umbridge with and bow of her head, using every bit of decorum she knew.

Umbridge fidgeted uncomfortably, looking at the jar as she took it in her fingers. The contents squished against the side of the jar with an audible schlucking sound. Dolores twitched as she opened the jar and, forgetting to waft with her hand, took a whiff of the odour directly from the jar and immediately turned a strange shade of green. Umbridge practically threw the jar at Hermione. “Yesthatwillbefine, Snape, carry on,” she said in a rush, fleeing from the classroom laboratory with haste.

There was the distinct sound of hurling in the corridor outside the classroom.

Hermione closed the jar with a sniff. “And these are the fresh ones,” she said innocently.

“Hnn,” Snape said with a blank expression as he took the jar from her hand and placed it on the high shelf above him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As the classroom sat in Defence Against the Dark Arts class copying passages from the book for “maximum retention,” Dolores was twitching.

“Where is that music coming from?” she yelled, causing each student to raise their head and look at her curiously.

“Which one of you started the music?” Dolores yelled, waving her wand at random students. “Who?”

Students looked around and then back at her. There was no music.

Dolores’ hands began to tremble as the students all dutifully copied their lines, not even whispering amongst themselves. Even the Slytherin students, who normally tried to heckle someone into Dolores’ wrath, kept their heads down and their quills busy.

Dolores grabbed a random student from Slytherin, as if to prove the reason why even Slytherin didn’t want anything to do with her in her classes, and demanded to know who had started the music in her classroom.

“There is no music, Ma’am,” the student squeaked as Umbridge held him up by the collar.

Umbridge’s eyes went to the corridor outside of the classroom. “Who let sheep loose in the corridors?” she screeched, rushing out of the classroom and disappearing down the corridor yelling.

In the back of the classroom, Fred and George exchanged looks with each other and then cast their heads down to look at their lines, continuing to write as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

When the bell rang, all of the students placed their parchments up on Umbridge’s desk and left, casting their eyes to the side as Dolores ran down the hallway screaming “Stop that sheep!”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ms. Granger,” Umbridge addressed her curtly from the hallway. Her hair was all over the place, and it looked like she had quite a few strangely placed hoof prints on her sweater.

“Yes, High Inquisitor Umbridge,” Hermione addressed her formally, her face as impassive as her Master’s.

“Why have you not been in my class, Ms Granger?” Umbridge accused her. “Do you think yourself somehow entitled to skip class just because you dress a little differently from the rest of the students?”

“I am sorry, High Inquisitor Umbridge,” Hermione said, extending every syllable possible to take far too much time saying Dolores’ full title and name. “As it was told to me, I was withdrawn from the class upon the receipt of my O.W.L.s. and my robes are the required uniform of my Master’s mark, High Inquisitor Umbridge. I would not assume or presume to wear anything that would bring disrespect to whatever my Master requires of me.”

There was a small gathering of students murmuring around them.

“You expect me to believe that a flippant little Muggle-born like you could have tested out of your O.W.L.s so soon?” Dolores hissed at Hermione. “Let me see your results. Right now.”

Hermione, in a smooth motion, pulled a scroll out form her robe’s many pockets and handed it to Dolores.

Umbridge broke the seal on the scroll and eyed it, becoming more and more furious. “This is a forgery. There is no way this could be true. No student gets all O’s on their O.W.L.s before required test time.”

More students were gathering in the adjacent corridors, peaking around the corners to see and hear what was going on.

“I assure you, High Inquisitor Umbridge,” Hermione said flatly. “My O.W.L.s were taken at the Office of the Ministry, and the grades were verified in triplicate.”

“You are a liar,” Umbridge hissed. “You have someone charmed that horrible man in the dungeon into taking you as an apprentice. Give me your wand. Right now.”

Hermione’s lips pressed together into a thin line. She pulled out her wand slowly and Umbridge snatched it.

“I will test this wand for what spells you have cast in the past week. I know you have been the one casting musical serenades in my classroom and filling this school with sheep!” Umbridge yelled at her.

“Maybe lifting your skirts worked for teachers in Muggle schools, Ms. Granger, but they will not work in this school while I am here,” Dolores yelled at her. “I will make sure you are expelled so you can go back to your Muggle schools where you belong.”

Umbridge pointed her wand at Hermione, pressing it into the bottom of her chin. Her fingers grasped Severus’ sigil that marked her collar and tore it from the fabric with a loud rip. “Actually,” Umbridge looked at Hermione with a cruel smile. “Under Educational Decree Number 21, since I know you are guilty of casting unauthorised spells in my classroom with the intent to instigate rebellion against the Ministry of Magic, I hear-by…” Umbridge looked at Hermione as though she were pondering what side dish to serve with her steak. She snapped Hermione’s wand in her fingers. “Relieve you of your wand. You can rest assured that I will be find your non-existent Apprenticeship forms at the Ministry and end this farce within the week. If I were you, I’d just pack up and leave before the Aurors come for you.”

Hermione stood stone-faced as Umbridge turned on her heels and left her in the hallway. The students around her started whispering loudly as Hermione turned on her heels and walked down the corridor towards the dungeon, her robes billowing behind her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione squeaked as Draco pulled her into a hug as she entered Severus’ chambers.

“Merlin, Ari,” Draco hissed into her ear. “I saw the whole thing. How did you not punch her in the face?”

Hermione let the impassive mask fall off her face as she hugged her brother tightly. “With great concentration, Draco,” she admitted. “If you hadn’t warned me what was coming, I might have done something far more… unbecoming.”

Vik popped out of Hermione’s hair and twittered angrily in a chain of loud hippogriff notes of displeasure, letting Draco know in a compressed chain of chirping just what he thought of the situation.

Draco cupped the angry hippogriff in his hands and soothed his feathers gently. Vik settled in his hands and chirped plaintively.

Draco pulled out a wand from his robe and handed it to her. “Watching her snap that wand was nerve wrecking, even knowing it was with me. I kept putting my hand in my pocket to check.”

Hermione nodded. “Even knowing you had my real wand… I really wanted to take mine out and hex the every living daylights out of her.” Hermione wrapped a cord around her wand, tying it as though she were going to wear it. “Do me a favour and shrink this for me, Draco?”

Draco looked puzzled and tapped his wand to hers, shrinking it.

Hermione put it around Vik’s neck and hid it in his mane and neck feathers. Vik chirped curiously, but rubbed up against her fingers as if to agree with whatever she desired.

“I’m not supposed to have a wand right now, but it will be fun to see what happens when the right people find out that she “snapped my wand” without a trial.

“What was this thing about music?” Draco asked.

“I have no idea,” Hermione admitted. “I can guess that maybe the twins were messing with her, but it would only be a guess.”

Pop!

Winky appeared with a bow. “Mistress. I moves all your things into your chambers with Master of Noble House of Slytherin,” she said. “Moved cat too.”

Hermione smiled at Winky. “Thank you, Winky. I appreciate it.”

“Anythings else you be needing, Mistress?” Winky asked.

“No, Winky, thank you.”

“Yous very welcome, Mistress!” Winky said and disappeared with a pop!

As if to confirm Winky’s story, Crookshanks padded into the room from the adjoining room and jumped up on one of the chairs and curled up to sleep.

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances and shrugged.

“I can’t believe she actually accused you of lifting your skirt to you own father,” Draco said with a shudder. “Even my father has more subtle ways to turn an insult that just… The majority of Slytherin even thinks the woman was way out of line with her comments. Wizarding Apprenticeships are like… Old School magic. You just don’t treat those like some sort of job you can kiss up for. Even my father won’t go there. If anything… my father pities Severus because he knows exactly what taking an Apprentice means.”

“To be fair, it’s not like anyone other than you knows he’s my dad,” Hermione said with a half grin.

Draco slapped himself with his palm. “Still, Ari… and she bloody ripped Severus’ sigil right off your collar.”

“Maybe she thought it was like being unpinned by the organisation,” Hermione speculated. “Lose the pin, lose the proof.”

“She’s bloody mental is what she is,” Draco said.

At that moment Severus swept into the room, the portrait slamming behind him as he rushed in and his eyes went from Hermione to Draco and then to Crookshanks on the armchair.

He let out his breath slowly. “It is a good thing my reputation for being a greasy, unfriendly, and utterly unflappable dungeon bat that couldn’t care less about whose skirt is being flipped my way is so well-known in this school because it is getting increasingly hard not to hex that toad of a woman into next year as an earthworm.”

Hermione and Draco slinked up next to Severus and ploughed into his sides, wrapping their arms around his waist in tandem.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed, drawing them close. “I will be much happier when that woman is committed into St. Mungos with something irreversibly and progressively horrible.” He pulled out his wand and tapped it to Hermione’s collar, repairing it, and then pulled out his sigil from his robe pocket and clipped it to her collar. He waved his hand over the sigil. “There, at least she won’t be able to see it this time until we can officially get it back.”

Hermione rubbed the space between her eyes. “This is getting ludicrous.”

“Albus wanted all of this to go down before the toad gets wind of Harry’s little Army,” Severus said grimly. “But, I do not think he suspected she would assault you in the corridors like you were some blatant lawbreaker, nor do I think he suspected she would snap your wand in front of fifty or more witnesses.”

“Good thing you’ve drilled me in wandless and silent magic since I was twelve,” Hermione said with a shake of her head.

“Yes, well,” Severus replied. “Let’s try to keep that under wraps from the toad, if you would please.”

Hermione smirked. “I should go unpack my things in my room here, now that Umbridge told me to ‘pack up my things’ from Gryffindor Tower and leave before the Aurors come for me.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and looked upward to the ceiling as if hoping for divine guidance. “I suspect Albus will have something official to say about this soon.”

A muffled pop signalled someone’s arrival by port-key in the next room.

Viktor walked into the room waving a copy of The Daily Prophet. “You made special edition, Her-my-own,” he said with a lopsided grin.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

**British Ministry of Magic Attempts to Sabotage Itself!**

**Right Hand Doesn’t Know What the Left is Doing!**

Ministry-appointed High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the witch who wanted all of your brooms a few months ago, is at it again, Ladies and Gentle-wizards. Now, instead of going after one of our oldest and fondest methods of transportation, Dolores wants to rid the world of the most time-honoured respectable tradition in the Wizarding World: Apprenticeships!

Our reporters were tipped off to a grand debacle in the corridors of one of our oldest and most respected Wizarding Schools in Scotland. Dolores Umbridge was seen dressing down the new, but quite official, Apprentice to Severus Snape, Potion Master of Hogwarts.

After accusing student and Apprentice Hermione Granger of cheating on her O.W.L.s, which this paper is happy to report after doing thorough research is totally untrue, Umbridge then accused her of using less than savoury methods of influencing her Master to take her as an Apprentice as well as filling the halls of Umbridge’s classroom with phantom music that no one else can seem to hear and the hallways with sheep that no one else can seem to recall ever seeing.

Parents and even those without children are starting to question what the Ministry is trying to pull sending such an unstable woman into a teaching position of our impressionable youth.

As if to top it all off, this Ministry-appointed witch took it upon herself to snap the wand of Apprentice Granger in front of countless witnesses without benefit of a trial, all under some Educational Decree Number 21, which this paper is confused to report, didn’t even exist until a few hours ago!

What is going on over at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Why are we allowing our oldest traditions such as Apprenticeships to be insulted?

In response to this outrage against the oldest traditions left in our Wizarding Society, Mr. Ollivander, maker of the finest wands known on this side of the world if not the world, said to us that Apprentice Granger is more than welcome to meet her new wand at any time she is able— completely free of charge, and that it is an utter outrage that any witch worthy of an Apprenticeship be stripped of her wand without as much as a Hail to the Queen.

While part of the British Ministry of Magic was more than happy to release the records of Apprentice Granger’s publicly registered O.W.L. scores and her Apprenticeship documentation, the Office of the Minister of Magic refuses to comment on the matter to our reporters.

We here at The Daily Prophet are tirelessly working to find out the latest updates on this horrible insult to Apprenticeship, and wish Apprentice Granger and her Master the best at Hogwarts. It is about time that the one of the oldest traditions in the Wizarding world is being help up by our young folk once more.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hermione set the paper down on the table after reading it aloud to Draco and Severus and took in a deep breath. “I don’t miss the old Prophet at all,” she said with a laugh. “Not…one…bit.”

Viktor enveloped her in a hug and pressed his nose to her hair. “I thought you might like to see the paper this time.”

Hermione grinned at him. “It scares me how fast The Prophet works when it wants information. Even without Rita Skeeter.”

“I must patrol,” Severus announced. “You, daughter, to bed. You, Draco, should be back in the Slytherin dormitories in case the gossip changes.”

Draco wilted a little. “Okay, Uncle,” he groused, picking up his books and leaving with a wave.

Vik perched on Hermione’s shoulder and chirped at Severus.

“And you,” Severus said to the little hippogriff. “Make sure she sleeps.”

The little hippogriff chirped sharply, fluttering his wings as if to agree.

Severus swept from the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

And shortly after, one sleepy gryphon and her simurgh suitor were blissfully asleep by the warm hearth with one dutiful miniature hippogriff nestled between their heads.

 


	46. Fan-mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge has a rapidly replicating problem.  
> Severus has miniature help with grading.  
> Hermione reveals that her Master has fanmail.  
> Ollivander helps Hermione get a replacement wand.  
> Umbridge attacks the Room of Requirement.

**Chapter 46: Fan-mail**

Hermione woke groggily in the dark of the room and half stretched. Viktor stirred against her, his arm wrapping around her and pulling her close.

Slightly startled at finding herself in her human form, she settled as Viktor’s face pressed into the junction of her neck and shoulder and his arm tightened around her firmly.

“Mrrr,” she purred, her eyes half-closing.

Viktor rumbled softly, his teeth nibbling on the skin of her throat, echoing the gentle groomings he gave her gryphon form. “Good morning,” he rumbled into her ear. His hand pulled her hair back from her face as he kissed the side of her face.

“Mrrr,” Hermione rumbled a reply. Her hand reaching behind her to pull Viktor closer. She leaned back into him, and he pulled her back against him, rolling her over onto her back.

“Was thinking,” Viktor said softly, his breath tickling her hairline.

“Hnn?” Hermione managed to say as his fingers ran down the line of her throat.

“Maybe we take weekend and pretend to be Muggles,” Viktor purred. “See orchestra in Prague.”

Hermione beamed at him. “I haven’t seen the orchestra since I was so small I couldn’t even see over the crowds or my parents.”

Viktor smiled at her. “Mother and Father used to take me a few times a year. They always say… culture important. History important. Music is own type of magic, da?”

Hermione nodded. “Getting away from Hogwarts may be… difficult… with the Pink Menace terrorising the corridors.”

Viktor smirked. “Does not have to be this weekend, Her-my-own. Just… something to tink about.” He pressed his lips to her gently.

“I would love to, Viktor,” Hermione answered, placing her hands against his cheeks with a smile. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” he said with a warm smile. “Unfortunately, I must go. Quidditch practice.”

Hermione made a pouting face. “Can’t you send Aleksander?”

Viktor laughed warmly. “Not if we vant to win!”

Hermione chuckled. “Okay. I suppose that is logical.”

Viktor touched her cheek, running his thumb across her skin affectionately. “I shall miss you.”

Hermione placed a kiss on his nose. “I’ll miss you too.”

Viktor stood reluctantly, extending his hand to her to pull her up. He bowed slightly, pressing his lips to the back of her hand and then disappeared out the door.

Hermione looked up to the ceiling with a smile. Little Vik chirped melodiously from her shoulder. She rubbed the little hippogriff under the wings and smile. “Looks like it’s time to sneak into the shower before we have another glorious day with Umbridge.”

Vik chirped a chain of sounds that sounded like cursing.

“I agree,” Hermione chuckled, heading off to commandeer the shower.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dolores Umbridge had a problem. A burning problem was on her mind and on her desk.

The Apprenticeship sigil that she had ripped off the impertinent child pretending to be a real witch did not seem to agree with its surroundings. In fact, it seemed to now have a burning desire to return to its predesignated person.

The circle of goblin silver bad been heavy, even as she had ripped it off Hermione’s collar. The quality was unmistakably wrought by the Masters at the Halls of Mastery back at the Ministry of Magic. Emblazoned on the circle was the image of a snake wrapped around a potion flask. The snake was crafted of fine emerald with tiny red ruby eyes. Decidedly Slytherin.The flask was enamelled a rich crimson, highlighted with gold. Gryffindor colours. The background, however, was the seal of Severus Snape, his finely quilled signature, now done in green enamelled relief, wove around the sigil with exacting detail. The magic imbued into the sigil was personalised and meant for one person… only now it was not with the one it was intended for.

The sigil was far too beautiful to be marking some Muggle-born witch wannabe. Dolores had made sure that was rectified, but now she had a different sort of problem. At first the sigil had just grown a little warm in her hand as she took it, but now that Hermione Granger was no longer nearby, the metal had grown so hot to the touch that it practically burned her hand before she had thrown it on her desk.

Now it lay in the middle of her desk, glinting at her, as if taunting her to try and pick it up again. Her one attempt to move it had ended quite quickly. The sigil now lay upon her desk as if affixed to it with a permanent sticking charm, stubbornly refusing to allow itself to be moved.

Dolores sighed, deciding that despite how beautiful it was, she would just have to Vanish it and be done with it. She waved her wand and cast the Vanishing charm upon it.

Pop! Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!

Suddenly there were ten more sigils sitting on Umbridge’s desk.

Dolores’ face grew red and she cast a spell to strip the magic from the gathering pile of sigils on her desk.

Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!

Every one of the sigils shuddered and reproduced themselves, covering her desk with sigils.

Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!

Umbridge’s shrieks brought a number of Hogwarts Professors rushing into her office to check on her only to find her screaming for them to get them out of her office as she huddled under her desk.

The other professors exchanged odd glances and shrugged. There was only one sigil sitting on Umbridge’s desk: Hermione’s Apprenticeship sigil.

“Take them all away!” Umbridge yelled! “Get them out!”

Minerva gave Flitwick a shrug, leaned over, picked up the sigil on Umbridge’s desk and walked out of the room with the rest of the professors, leaving Dolores to hide away under her desk.

Later that day, Minerva nonchalantly passed Severus the sigil as she passed the bread basket down the High Table. Severus arched a brow at the cat animagus.

Minerva gave him her best halo look.

Umbridge was strangely absent for lunch that day. No one seemed to be bothered overly much by the revelation. Strange that.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Double potions today,” Ron groaned softly as he rubbed his head.

Harry opened one eye from where he had his head was practically soaking in his lunch soup with his face.

Snape had stood from his place at the High Table and was storming down the aisle as though the wind carried him. As he passed the section of table where the trio and their friends were eating or attempting to absorb their lunch via osmosis, Hermione stood swiftly, her drowsy smile she had held from their conversations over lunch fled her face. She fell into step behind Snape as he left without a word, following slightly behind her Master as their feet went into sync out of the Great Hall and off towards the Dungeon.

Ron’s eyes widened as he swallowed a bit harder. “That… is not getting any easier to see.”

Harry ribbed him. “I don’t claim to understand him, Ron, but I know there is more he can teach us than we ever gave him credit for. Well… any of us except Hermione.”

Ron frowned at Harry. “I don’t understand why you’re defending the greasy git, mate. It’s not like he’s changed towards us at all.”

Harry shook his head. “Maybe we haven’t given him any reason to think otherwise.”

Ron looked at Harry funny. “You’ve been talking strange since Christmas, mate. What’s gotten into you?”

Harry took in a deep breath. “A little of my father,” he admitted, “and a little of my mother… and a little too much of V…oldemort.”

Ron frowned and then took a long sigh. “I suppose any amount of V…oldemort is too much.”

Harry nodded. “It’s enough to make you see a lot of things differently, Ron.”

“Even Snape?” Ron asked meekly.

Harry gave a half smile. “Even Snape.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus eyed the pile of scrolls and parchments piling up on his desk with a critical eye. A certain hippogriff poked his head out from the parchment pile and chirped at him, seemingly quite happy with with the pileup without any assistance on his part.

"You…" Severus said with a sniff. "Are a menace." He extended one pale finger to scratch the little hippogriff under the chin.

Vik chirped happily, fluttering his wings in concert to his scratching.

Snape regarded the little creature with a smirk, running his hand down Vik's velvet soft wings. "Am I permitted to grade the papers, or should I just give everyone grade of troll?"  
Vik chirped, grasping a writing quill from the nearby holder and dragging it over to Snape's hand.

"Hnn," Severus tsked. "Apparently the grading must go on." Giving the hippogriff one final pat, he took the quill and sat down at his desk, pulling a parchment off the hippogriffs makeshift nest and set to work grading.

Gradually, the large pile of parchments to grade became half a pile to grade and half a pile of graded ones, much to Snape's relief. Most of the papers were uncreative at best, lacking any sort of enthusiasm for the subject. He really didn't expect enthusiasm for the subject of the difference lunar and solar moth wings and their effects when used in potions, but he was at least hoping for correctly researched facts.

Vik had dipped his rear hooves in the red inkwell somehow, leaving tiny hippogriff hoof prints as he trotted across the parchment in front of Severus.

Severus eyed Vik with a strange expression, scooping the creature up with one hand and pinning him against his chest as he continued to grade. Vik chirped and fluttered his wings, settling in his hand with a few flutters. The bright red hoof prints stood out against the unimpressively written paper, bringing one bit of flare to an otherwise dreary paper.  
Hermione walked into the classroom with a crate of something in her arms. Using her foot to close the door, she carried the crate towards him and set it down on the nearby table with a grunt.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus asked as he continued to scribble away at the parchments.

“Your fan mail, my Master,” Hermione said with amusement.

“My… what?” Severus asked, freezing over the parchments with look of disbelief and something akin to horror.

Hermione looked over the crate with a grin. “Your hearing is flawless, Master,” she purred over the crate. “You can catch mice without moonlight from two clicks out.”

“I believe it has taken a fall into the Abyss, my Apprentice,” Severus said flatly, “because it mistakenly made me hear that you were bringing me a crate of…fan mail.”

“Some of it is… decidedly more official, Master, but some of it is… unmistakably fan-mail,” Hermione cast her hand over the crate and a lavender and silver envelope levitated out of the crate. There was a sickly sweet scent practically oozing off it. The envelope had feminine handwriting on the front that clearly spelt out “Master Snape, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Severus’s face began to tremble slightly as his face underwent a facial tic quite a few times.

“Oh… and you have food offerings as well, my Master,” Hermione oozed with amusement. She held out a plate of brownies and what looked like a jar of pickled herring.

Snape’s eyes flicked over the crate as he succumbed to another round of facial tics. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “As much as it has been a blessing to not have to hide you like some contraband at every turn, my dear Apprentice, I think I’m going to murder Albus.”

“Now, now, Master,” Hermione said with a grin. “Azkaban is such a dreary place to spend the rest of your life.”

“You’re not the one getting lavender perfume saturated fan mail,” Severus grunted. “Apparently none of these cretins have seen a recent photograph of my stunning aquiline charm or experienced my outstanding social rapport,” he sneered sarcastically. “Albus making me out to be some sort of bloody hero to Wizarding traditions…” He let out his breath in a hiss.

“I happen to like your stunning aquiline charm, my Master,” Hermione replied with a sniff, “and there is nothing wrong with our rapport.”

“You are biased, my daughter,” Severus replied, “and you are not having to face enough mail to cobble dogs with.”

“I could assist, if you like. I did have to help Viktor sort through his from the Christmas holiday,” Hermione confessed. “I and the birds all took turns shuffling through the food, letters, love letters, marriage proposals, offers for midnight anonymous trysts, and other wonderful strangeness.”

Severus arched a brow. “Marriage proposals?”

“Seemed about equal between random females and males,” Hermione admitted. “I think if Ron really knew the price of fame, he wouldn’t think so badly on Viktor.”

Horror washed back over Severus’ pale face.

“Viktor finds it comical,” Hermione explained. “He says they obviously don’t know him as well as they think, if they think they have a chance at him taking any of them seriously.”

Severus released the death grip he had on Vik, petting his wings with great enthusiasm to calm himself. He twitched, his e ye squinting furiously over and over. “Do… put that… somewhere out of my sight for now, please,” he ordered, refusing to look at it any longer than he had to. “And out of any student’s sight as well. The last thing I need is random dunderheads catching sight or smell of… whatever all that is.” He waved his hand dismissively as if he were shooing away the hired help.

“Yes, Master,” Hermione said with a smirk, hauling the crate off and stuffing it in a back cabinet where students knew better than to look for anything.

Snape scribbled furiously on the pile of ungraded parchments, trying to burn the entire image of the crate of fan-mail out of his mind by sheer willpower alone.

Hermione’s warm mental laughter in his head didn’t make it any easier.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Apprentice Granger,” Ollivander greeted warmly as Hermione entered the shop. “How good to see you found your way here during these confusing times.”

“Master Ollivander,” Hermione said respectfully, curtsying slightly.

“Now, now, my dear,” the older wizard said with a smile. “No need for such formalities, though I will admit that it warms my heart that some of the young still remember their manners. Come, let us see what I can do for you.”

Hermione followed Ollivander through his store with a little awe. It was well known that Ollivander remembered every wand he had ever made or sold, and if that wasn’t impressive enough on its own, his skill at crafting wands was undeniably ahead of any that tried their hand at the skill.

“I think, my dear, it was time for you to trade in your old wand anyway,” Ollivander said as he pulled a few seemingly random boxes from shelves as he passed. “I looked at the pieces of what was left when the persona non grata over at Hogwarts saw to the destruction of your wand and the Ministry brought it to me to confirm its destruction, and I can tell that the woman has no idea what you are really capable of, now does she?”

Ollivander turned to her with a smile as he placed the boxes down on a long counter next to the shattered remains of the wand Hermione had created as a decoy to Umbridge’s wrath. “Spectacular replica, my dear, if you don’t mind me saying so. To those not intimate in the ways of wandcraft, they would never know the difference.”

Hermione blushed at Ollivander with smile.

The old wizard smiled at her. “Ten and three fourths inches long, vine wood, and a dragon heartstring core. Very appropriate for you back when you were eleven, probably still very loyal and functional to you, I’ll wager, but there at times when what you want to do seems difficult, yes? Not for lack of trying? But it is if your will is being squeezed out of a very small opening instead of flowing from your mind and out of your wand?”

Hermione nodded to Ollivander with a little awe. Her wand had not failed her in any way since she obtained it, but she had noticed that recently, especially with all the training she had undergone between Severus and the Order, that what her mind wanted, the wand gave her slower. It was nothing that would have been fatal, per se, but for one such as her, who had come to rely on instant response to stimulus and will on the drop of her Master’s orders, every bit of delay added yet one more factor of complication to instruction and follow through.

“You would do well to keep the old wand for… emergencies, my dear,” Ollivander said, “but here we go.” He pointed to the boxes on the counter. “Do give these a try.”

Hermione placed her hand over the open boxes, her fingers hovered over the wands as if running her fingers through the water of a river.

Ollivander watched her with interest. Hermione pushed one of the boxes away without even bothering to pick up the wand. Another, she hovered her hand over it and slowly ran her finger down the shaft but pulled away from it.

Hermione closed her eyes, casting her hand over the wands once more. She picked up one, but dropped it back in the box without waving it. She picked up another, running her opposing hand over the shaft in careful evaluation, but again replaced it in the box without waving it.

Her hand rested on one curiously, longer than the others. Her opposing hand ran down the shaft, and she lifted it as it to give it a flick, but she paused in half motion. Her eyes opened and she shook her head, placing the wand back in the box.

“No?” Ollivander said at last, his eyes were warm and his expression amused.

Hermione looked at him apologetically, shaking her head.

Ollivander shook his head in reply. “No, my dear, don’t apologise. You’ll have to forgive me the little test of my own, for my own curiosity.” He pulled a box out from a nearby shelf, seemingly at random. There was nothing spectacular about the box. He placed it in her hands.

Hermione opened the box carefully and scanned the wand with her eyes. It was vine wood, she could tell, but the colour was dark and more rich, almost as if it had been stained a deep burgundy. Flicks of lighter grain wove within the darker grain, giving the appearance of marbling. The wand was longer than her original one and more substantial, yet when her hand ran across the wand, it yielded to her pressure almost as if it were alive. It felt as though she were petting one of Viktor’s wings.

She held it out in front of her and the wand resonated, sending a warmth down her arm and through her body and a warm glow flashed around her wand hand and disappeared.

“Well then,” Ollivander said cheerfully. “Twelve point five inches. Crafted of vine. Yielding. Flexible, yet strong… core is a bit fickle. It’s a gryphon feather, you see, and much like phoenix feathers—they tend to have personalities of their own, much like the creature they came from.

“The gryphon whose feather that came from was an ancient mountain breed, whose cubs were often sought for their ferocity and intellect.

“The very traits that wizards tended to desire, however, the gryphon used against her pursuers, hiding her clutches far from prying wizards until her cubs were grown, and by then, raised to avoid said wizards,” Ollivander explained. “One of my father’s customers spend many years of his life seeking a gryphon to train for his own reasons, but all he ever managed to catch were feathers, left in places he had just checked, as if to taunt him. He never managed to find her, her mate, or her cubs, save from a distance, and one day, when he needed a wand for his son, he traded my father the feather that resides in that wand for his son’s new wand.”

Hermione looked at the wand with a little more awe.

“Use it well, Apprentice Granger,” Ollivander said warmly. “May it serve you well against those who would see you fail.”

“Thank you, Master Ollivander,” Hermione said warmly.

Ollivander nodded to her with a smile.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hergryffy!” The little filly galloped into Hermione as she landed in the encampment, clinging tightly to Hermione’s neck feathers.

“Trefoil,” Chara admonished as she walked slowly over from one of the shelters. “Manners.”

Hermione fluttered her wings helplessly as she had the air squeezed out from her by the exuberant young centaur, her tail lashed back and forth as her beak clacked softy. The filly let her go reluctantly, but seemed ready at a moments notice to reattach herself to what had become a familiar visitor in the centaur camp.

“Trefoil,” Bane called from the fire as he approached. “Allow the witch to deliver her news before squeezing the air from her lungs.”

Hermione panted a bit before turning into her human shape. “Good afternoon, Bane, Chara, and apparently you have gained a name, hrm Trefoil?”

The filly beamed with pride and hugged her waist.

Bane shook his head. “In the fall, the trefoil seed pods get stuck into our fur without fail. The name seemed appropriate.”

Hermione hugged the filly with a smile. “I like it. The trefoil plant has beautiful flowers in the summer to make up for its clingy fall traits.”

Bane laughed. “Just in time for her to try her hand at English as well, though I think she slaughtered your name in a creative way.”

Trefoil blushed and clung to Hermione with her hands, making a soft nickering sound.

“I have a question, if you do not mind, Bane,” Hermione said neutrally.

“Ask and I will answer if I can,” he replied.

“Why is it Trefoil and the other colts and fillies wait so long to attempt English?” Hermione asked curiously.

Bane tilted his head. “We a mixed beast species,” he replied without offence. “When we are young and still suckling upon our dams, we encourage the language of our beast. The language of the body and language of the equine. It is a strong impulse when we are so young, and brings us closer to the call of the herd, which without it we would not survive.

“Only later,” he continued, “do we start to expand outward to communicate verbally in human languages. It’s not to say we don’t understand it when we are young, but we have little desire to use it until we are about her age.” He gestured to the young filly clinging to Hermione. “When curiosity overrides all sense of reason,” he said with a smirk.

Hermione laughed. “Some of us never lose our curiosity, Bane,” she snickered softly. She took in a deep breath. “I am here to deliver a message from my Master, before I forget myself.”

“By all means, do,” Bane said, shooing Trefoil off to join her dam as Chara wandered the camp tending to her chores.

“Dumbledore has spoken with Hagrid about his situation, but he has not informed my Master as to what he said specifically,” Hermione reported. “Even so, the giant seems to have moved to the opposing side of the forest around Hogwarts, away from your encampments.”

Bane nodded. “I will relay the message to Magorian. I know he will be disappointed the giant is not gone, but he will be happy that it is, at the very least, not in the heart of our territory.”

Hermione nodded. “I fear I cannot stay to say more. My absence at the school may be noticed soon if I do not return.”

“Travel swiftly,” Bane said with a nod. “We will continue to patrol the far side of the forest, but we will leave the giant to the half-giant, as long as they stay away from our camps.”

Hermione nodded grimly and bowed her head in farewell, taking to the air to fly back to Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Remember to use the happiest memory you have,” Hermione said as Harry walked around the Room of Requirement checking wand movements and postures. “It cannot be something minor like your favourite food or getting something for Christmas.”

“And remember you have to focus on it for a Patronus to protect you,” Harry said. “The memory has to be a powerful memory...the happiest, just like Hermione said. Allow it to fill you up.”

Cho was happily watching her swan-shaped Patronus swimming around the Room of Requirement, using the floor as its baseline for water. “They’re so pretty!”

“Expecto Patronum!” Fred incanted, flicking his wand precisely. Wisps of silver were coming out of the end of his wand.

“Expecto Patronum!” George said, and his wand sprung to life as well.

Wisps came out strongly from their wands, but they did not solidify into full-bodied form.

“How happy is your memory, George, Fred?” Hermione asked.

“Ron dancing with McGonagall before the Yule Ball,” they chimed together. “Absolutely hilarious.”

Hermione stifled a laugh. “Undoubtedly… but it needs to be really happy guys. So happy that it fills you with something you can feel.”

The twins stared at her, pondering.

Hermione’s eyes flicked towards them, locking gazes for a moment. “How about when saw your dad in the hospital after you thought he’d been killed? I remember you told me that was pretty intense.”

The twins exchanged glances and pointed their wands together and yelled “Expecto Patronum!”

Silvery wisps shot forth from their wands quickly, but this time the wisps formed into what looked like a large eared dogs. They ran in circles around the twins, sat on their haunches, and tilted back their heads and gave a yipping and laughing howl.

Hermione laughed as the coyote patroni tore off into the room and knocked over Ron, who had a wiry looking Jack Russell Terrier running around his legs. Both the coyotes and the Jack Russell Terrier Patroni dissipated into the air.

Neville was experiencing tentative wisps coming from the end of his wand, but it was as far from substantial enough to even be used as a shield let alone form into a full-bodied Patronus.

“You’ve got to think of something happy,” Harry attempted to remind him.

“I’m trying,” moaned Neville. Sweat was breaking out over his face with the strength of his effort.

Seamus had minor wisps coming from the tip of his wand, and Harry came over to inspect.

Luna had a Patronus shaped in the form of a hare bounding around the room. Her expression was faraway, yet happy, and Harry was profoundly glad for her. “Great job, Luna,” Harry encouraged as he turned back to Seamus.

Marietta Edgecombe was fumbling beside Cho, and Cho was trying to run through a laundry list of happy memories they had shared together to help her, but her friend seemed too stressed to focus on any one happy memory.

Hermione came over to assist. “Are you all right?” she asked gently. “Would you like a meditation I find helpf—”

Marietta shot Hermione an accusatory look. “You may think you’re all smart, Hermione, but you don’t know everything. Maybe if you were in Ravenclaw we’d—”

Cho jerked on Marietta’s sleeve and gave her a pointed look, but the damage was already done.

Hermione’s posture stiffened, and the friendly expression that was on her face fled. Her eyes became colder, and her face impassive. In that moment, her lips pursed into a fine line, the corner of her mouth formed into an almost sneer. She was her father’s daughter, and there was no doubt that if she had actually said something in response, the words would have been as cold and biting as her Master’s.

Marietta and Cho gave her a sudden wide-eyed look, but Hermione’s jaw clenched, and she turned away from them both, refusing to give Marietta the pleasure of giving in to her taunt. She stood straight, her height seeming to gain something with the stiffness of her posture. She shrugged her shoulders, stretching her neck on one side and the other, an audible cracking sound as the bones aligned in her neck was the only sound she gave them. Her outer robe fell about her shoulders with a strange and almost tangible heaviness. Hermione walked away, leaving the pair alone.

Cho gave Marietta an accusatory look from behind Hermione’s back, and Edgecomb set her jaw and turned her head away, refusing to apologise.

When Harry gave Cho and odd look from his place beside Seamus, Cho blinked furiously and turned her head to side to avoid eye contact. Harry frowned slightly, but went back to helping Seamus.

Seamus’s Patronus had finally started to pour from his wand’s tip in a steady cone, a hint of it trying to take on a form was starting to form on the periphery of the cone.

“Hermione look!” Ginny squealed from the corner, and Hermione drifted towards her friend. A wispy horse sprang forth from Ginny’s wand and neighed, galloping forth through the room with graceful movements.

Hermione’s face softened at the sight of her friend’s horse Patronus. She nodded, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth as her previous sneer disappeared.

Ginny bounced on her heels. “Hermione, show me your Patronus, please?”

Hermione gave Ginny a look.

“Please, Hermione!” Ginny said. “I know you can do it, but I want to see it.”

Hermione pulled out her wand, and flicked it in a small circular motion. A large owl formed from the Patronus wisps, flapping his wings as if to shake cobwebs from them. The Patronus flew circles around Ginny and shot off across the room on silent wing beats.

Hermione stared at the place where her Patronus had materialised with a puzzled expression.

“An owl?” Ron said with a laugh. “Figures right? With all that time you spend in the library, right?”

Hermione shook her head as if to clear it. “Um… right. I know right?”

Hermione furrowed her brows. Where had her otter gone?

Hermione didn’t have time to ponder it much longer, because Vik chirped a loud alarm from his perch in the rafters and shot into Hermione’s hair. Hermione stiffened and gestured to Harry frantically. They had planned for the chance of discovery ever since Fred and George had caught Filch and Mrs. Norris staking out one of the walls, and it seemed it was finally time to put the plan into action.

“Evacuate!” Harry yelled, gesturing with his hands and arms. “Dismantle, conceal, disappear!”

Students flew in all directions to their predesignated tasks. Some gathered into groups and placed their hands on seemingly random walls. They closed their eyes, concentrating hard on needing a door to a safe place. Doors began to appear near each group of students, which they immediately fled out of.

Some students grabbed pieces from the mirror they had posted their inspirational pictures. Each student took a paper, shoving it into their robes as they fled out the newly formed doors.

Harry sealed each door behind the fleeing students.

Cho tugged on her friend’s sleeve, but Marietta seemed glued to the spot, perhaps in fear. Harry hurried Cho to the safe door, pushing her through, turning around to double back and go for Marietta.

Hermione pulled out a handful of something in her hand from her robe pocket and threw it onto the floor of the Room of Requirement, projecting her needs intensely with her mind even as she waved her wand at the rain of objects she had just thrown on the ground.

Old dusty barrels, shelves and battered cast-aside buckets and seats rose from the floor in a clutter. The Room of Requirement itself seemed to bend to her needs, casting the entire room in a coat of long-gathered dust and antiquity.

Glass was breaking as the mirrors shattered on the far wall. Someone was trying to break through the wall by force. Hermione gestured at Harry to go. He ducked out of the door, looking back at Hermione one last time. Hermione waved him away, taking out her wand and sucking Marietta into one of the dusty looking cabinets and throwing a dilapidated old painter’s cloth over it. The door Harry had used was disappearing and Hermione sighed with relief.

She hurried up one of the old ladders the room had created to an upper “storage area” and disillusioned herself even as she wished very loudly in her head for a window to crawl out.

There was a crackling sound behind her. A window was forming in the wall behind her, hidden amongst the old crates and storage shelves that had formed in the room.

BOOM!

Stone and glass went flying into the room as a giant hole formed into the Room of Requirement. The inherent magic of the room seemed to scream its protest as Hogwarts itself seemed to snarl frustration.

“Well, where are they?” Umbridge’s voice yelled as her distinctively pink clothes came out of the dust. A squad of her student Inquisitors came in with her, spreading about the room, running into cobwebs, tripping over old mop handles, and stubbing their toes on random boxes.

Umbridge cast a mage light, sending it into the rafters to cast light down below.

Silent dust and boxes were the only things to greet her.

Umbridge’s face turned red and she began to storm out of the room. “Find me something I can use!” she screeched.

Hermione closed her eyes, glad that Umbridge was taken by the rooms appearance.

Suddenly, however, frantic pounding came from the cabinet that Hermione had stuffed Marietta. Umbridge swirled around immediately, pulling the painter’s cloth off the cabinet and practically throwing herself at the handles, opening the cabinet.

Marietta fell out in a panic, covered in cobwebs and dust.

“I got it, Professor Umbridge,” she panted. “Just like I said!” She frantically placed a piece of parchment into Umbridge’s hands.

Hermione’s heart fell into her boots and she clenched her teeth. Marietta had taken the roster from the mirror… the list of everyone in Dumbledore’s Army.

“They were all here then?” Umbridge demanded with anticipation.

“Yes, they were all meeting in this room!” Marietta blurted.

“Excellent,” Umbridge looked practically righteous in her justification.

Suddenly Marietta screamed, clutching her face.

“No need to scream, dear,” Umbridge cooed. “I’ll be sure to let Cornelius know that you were dutiful in your support of the Ministry. Your mother will be happy to know her reputation is not sullied by her daughter’s actions.”

But Marietta did not stop screaming. Even when Umbridge forcibly pulled the girls hands away from her face. Marietta’s face had broken out in painful purple pox that spelt “SNEAK” all over her face.

The student Inquisitors looked at Marietta’s face in horror, stepping away from her in case it was contagious.

“You, take her to the Headmaster’s Office, so she can give her confession in front of Cornelius when he arrives,” Umbridge screeched. “The rest of you help me round up all the people on this list. Take them all to the Headmaster’s office. I’m flooing Cornelius. Dumbledore is going down!”

The student Inquisitors scattered quickly to her orders, but Draco looked upward as he caught the hint of a breeze coming from above him. One lone window lay open to the outside. Draco closed his eyes and averted his gaze and moved to carry out Umbridge’s orders.

 


	47. Banishment of Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore is forced out of office.  
> Harry and Hermione meet Grawp.  
> Harry realises how dangerous Hagrid's blindness has become.  
> Snape gives Hagrid a piece of his mind.

**Chapter 47: The Banishment of Dumbledore**

“I’ve been watching them for weeks,” Umbridge screeched. “And see… ‘Dumbledore’s Army!’ Proof of what I’ve been telling you right from the beginning, Cornelius.

“All your fear mongering about You-Know-Who never fooled us for a minute. We saw your lies for what they were— a smoke screen to cover up your bid to seize control of the Ministry—” Umbridge accused Dumbledore as they approached. Fudge was looking the roster parchment critically.

“Naturally,” Dumbledore said as he sat upon the side of his desk.

“No!” Harry explained. “He had nothing to do with it! I was me…”

Dumbledore tilted his head. “Most noble of you to shield me, Harry, but as it’s been clearly said… the parchment says ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ not ‘Potter’s.” Dumbledore looked terribly calm as he sat on the edge of his desk. His long beard practically blended into the silver blue of his Headmaster’s robes. “I instructed Harry to form this organisation, and I, and I alone, am responsible for its activities.”

“Dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet. If we hurry we should still make the morning edition,” Fudge said gleefully.

Percy Weasley, who seemed entirely too full of himself, nodded his head in acknowledgement, pushing Harry and Marietta forward as he fled the room to deliver the news to The Daily Prophet. Harry couldn’t help but cast daggers with his eyes in the direction of Percy Weasley’s back as he left. It was so hard to believe that Percy was even a Weasley anymore. Even back when he was in their House and sharing school with them… never had Percy seemed as blatantly blind to the manipulations of politics. It seemed, however, that for better or worse, Percy had taken sides with the Minister of Magic… and that meant against Harry and more importantly… against ever fibre of his family.

Marietta whimpered slightly next to Harry as every student eye in the office was staring at her, or rather her purple poxed face. Hermione’s preemptive jinx on the roster for Dumbledore’s Army had done its work, and no spell from Umbridge seemed to have any effect upon it. For whatever reason Marietta had thought was worth spilling the secrets of the army to Umbridge, it seemed small in comparison to the consequences given to a young teenager girl whose belief that appearances were everything. Whatever her true motivations really were, the members of Dumbledore’s Army saw her for what she was… a traitor.

“Dawlish, Shacklebolt, you will escort Dumbledore to Azkaban, to await trail for conspiracy and sedition,” Fudge said.

“Ah,” Dumbledore said conversationally as he stood from his place on the desk. “I thought we might hit that little snag.”

“You seem to be labouring under the delusion that I’m going to… what was the phrase… come quietly?” he said almost apologetically. “Well, I can tell you this, I have no intention of going to Azkaban.”

“Enough of this!” Umbridge hissed, approaching him. “Take him!”

Dumbledore caught Harry’s eye only briefly, winking at him. A shadow cast over him as Fawkes’s great wings flew over him. With a clap of his hands, Dumbledore’s body was surrounded in magical fire that burst forward in a force so strong is blew back all that were in the room, some more violently than others, and when Harry blinked and looked to where the Headmaster had stood only moments before, saw nothing. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was gone.

“Well, you may not like him, Minister, but you cannot deny… Dumbledore’s got style,” Kingsley said as Umbridge, Fudge, and Dawlish picked themselves off the ground.

Umbridge’s face was as red as a radish, and Harry had no doubt at all that whatever happened next was going take out her frustration on those that were unable to flee.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The news that Dolores Jane Umbridge had replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight as signed by Cornelius Oswald Fudge spread through the school very quickly, but not as quickly as the knowledge that the same Dolores Jane Umbridge had been locked out of the Headmaster’s Office.

Apparently, Hogwarts had not forgiven Dolores for her attack on its Room of Requirement, and while the wall itself seemed to have repaired itself, it also did something else to piss off the new Headmistress—lock the official office of the residing Headmaster and Headmistress. No matter of magic, cursing, hexing, or blasting managed to clear the way for Umbridge, and she had stayed fixed to the gargoyle all morning and afternoon in an attempt to force her way into her “rightful place.” The walls were unimpressed, seemingly having gained immunity to her magic since she had forced her way in the last time. Piles of rubble lay everywhere, but the magic of Hogwarts rose up and healed itself immediately.

Her attempts to break into the area occurred daily. Her failures shared the same ratio. She outlawed any student to walk down that particular corridor during the day to cover up her attempts to force her way into Dumbledore’s old office.

The one time Umbridge had tried to force her way in immediately as she blasted her way through, she got her leg and arm stuck in the wall, which made her late to the mass detention that was assigned for those listed as “co-conspirators” to Dumbledore’s supposed plans of Ministry takeover.

The mass detention was then overlooked by an unheard of team of professors. Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Lupin all sat at the head of the room discussing O.W.L. taking tips, while all the other professors for different year classes strangely found the furthest classrooms from Dumbledore’s old office to teach their students. Dolores screams fell on non-existent ears until later that night, when Argus Filch found her stuck in the wall by her arm and leg.

Filch, who wasn’t exactly known for his excellent command of magic, could do nothing but attempt to “carve” Umbridge out using a chisel and hammer. He had tried to bring a circular stone cutting saw, but that just caused Umbridge to scream even louder at him and try to beat him with her free arm and leg and call him an uncoordinated squib.

By the time Filch had managed to chisel Umbridge’s arm out, she wrenched out her back falling back against the floor, her leg still stuck in the stone, and her arm was still encased in a crude stone cast.

It was long into the night before Severus and Hermione walked that particular hall during his assigned patrol that evening. They found Umbridge flat on her back, her one arm and leg encased in wall masonry. Filch was attempting to chisel stone off tiny bits at a time.

A large chuck of stone finally fell off her encased hand, and Umbridge immediately tried to cast a spell. The spell went zinging like a comet out of the end of her wand, perhaps in the hopes of actually blasting the stone off herself, but it ricocheted off the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office and went towards Hermione, who dodged, then bounced off the mirror on one of the hallway walls towards Severus, who stepped to the side, and then smacked Filch square in the face.

Filch howled in pain, staggering backwards, stepping on Mrs. Norris, who shot up in the air, but confined by her abused tail, latched onto Filch’s calf and sank all four sets of claws into his rather ill guarded gastrocnemius muscle. Filch staggered, grasping his calf as he tried to pry his familiar off it and fell backward on top of Umbridge, knocking himself unconscious.

Severus and Hermione stared down at the improbable concatenation of events with nearly identical impassive expressions, the only indicator of affect was a slight sneer that pulled up one corner of each of their mouths just before that too disappeared completely.

“Take… me…to the hospital wing,” Umbridge demanded through bared teeth.

“But of course, Headmistress,” Severus said in a completely monotone voice as he pulled out his wand. He pointed his wand at the pile of happenstance sprawled on the floor in front of him. “Mobilicorpus.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco was lying in a heap in the middle of the Lair, laughing so hard that his breaths were starting to wheeze. “She spend her day stuck in a wall?” His laughter continued hysterically as he stretched out over the floor mattress. “Oh… Merlin. What I would have given to see that.”

“We do have a pensieve,” Hermione said with amusement, flopping on her back to stare at the ceiling.

Draco grinned. “True.” Draco yawned and sprawled, shoving his homework and parchments off the sleeping space. “She has us doing the most preposterous things as the Inquisitorial Squad. She’s even had Filch do some pretty strange things too.”

“Oh? How is that any different from her normal idiocy?” Hermione chuckled.

“Patrolling to make sure male and female students are no less than eight inches from each other, for example,” Draco said with a shake of his head. “She has Filch removing portraits from everywhere because they won’t call her Headmistress.”

“What are they calling her?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Nothing polite within friendly company,” Draco answered.

“Oh dear,” Hermione said with a shake of her head. “I can’t blame them though. Portraits tend to be more outspoken than most students.”

“They are only saying what we’ve been wanting to say since she trundled into Hogwarts,” Draco said with a sigh.

“As Minerva said the other day ‘Oh, there’s plenty of things I’d like to say…’” Hermione said with a snort.

“Oh, I’m sure there were plenty of things you wanted to say when she had to publicly admit that you were an official Apprentice and apologise before the Hall of Masters for her ‘ignorance of a real Master’s Sigil,’” Draco snickered.

“Did I ever,” Hermione replied. “I stuck to my manners, as we agreed.”

“Sad that we have to be more mature about it than she ever was to any of us,” Draco pouted with a yawn.

“As Severus told us,” Hermione shrugged. “We have to give her enough rope to hang herself with.”

“At this rate, she’d going to have enough rope to hang Fudge’s entire cabinet,” Draco murmured.

“Bonus?” Hermione replied with a snicker.

Draco laughed warmly. “Indeed. Where is Severus tonight? He’s normally back by now, and I know he’s not patrolling tonight. That’s on Flitwick,” Draco asked.

“Occlumency night,” Hermione answered him.

“Oh right,” Draco replied. “How is that coming?”

“His bucket still has a few holes, but he’s doing better now,” Hermione said. “He’s actually practising and trying. Ron says he doesn’t wake up screaming anymore. That should say something.”

“I can’t imagine waking up every night like that, to be honest,” Draco admitted.

“I used to have odd nightmares occasionally,” Hermione confessed. “Nothing like that though.”

“Whatever would you find terrifying, Ari?” Draco ribbed her.

“Failing the ones I care about,” Hermione said with a sigh. “Still do.”

Draco rolled over onto his stomach and reached his arm around Hermione as she lay beside him. “The only thing you fail at, Ari,” Draco said softly, “is failing to notice that doing your best is not failure.” He hugged her against him sleepily. His eyes drifted shut shortly after.

Hermione was not long behind him as one sleepy gryphon folded her wing around her brother and went limp into sleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Pssst!”

Hermione halted on her walk towards the Great Hall.

An arm reached out from the shadows of a pillar and dragged Hermione into hidden area behind the columns.

Hermione managed to suppress about four years worth of hair triggered response to being unexpectedly grabbed, and, to her credit, she managed not to shoot out her hand with claws outstretched in an equally instinctive response.

“Hermione!” Fred and George whispered.

“Fred, George!” Hermione replied. “Why are you hiding behind this… awful tapestry?”

“It’s the only one Umbridge kept because of the stupid cats on it,” Fred said.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, knowing they were always up to “something.”

“We sneaked into Umbridge’s not-so-hidden hidden storage closet,” Fred said.

George had a grim expression. “We found her blood quills. The ones no one is supposed to know about after the Daily Prophet ran that article after you almost bled to death on top of her desk.”

“We’re pretty sure she’s keeping them to punish the entire Army and would have if she hadn’t had that—” Fred began.

“Unfortunate experience with the wall of the Headmaster’s Office,” George finished.

Hermione looked at the twins with a raised eyebrow. “How is it that you know about that?”

Fred and George exchanged mischievous glances. “We might have… put a silencing charm on that particular hallway.”

George wiggled his eyebrows. “Clearly to assist Umbridge so her attempts at breaking into Dumbledore’s Office went unnoticed by—”

“Everyone…” Fred finished.

“We removed it this morning, of course,” George said with a grin.

“You know, so no one accidentally slipped on the rubble and had to call for help,” Fred finished.

“Would have been a real pity, you know,” George grinned. “If someone would have needed help and no one could hear them.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose much as her father was prone to do. “So… why are you dragging me into the dark behind a horrible cat tapestry?”

“Watch!” Fred said, pulling out his wand and waving it.

A door formed under the tapestry they were hiding under. George pointed his wand at the lock and muttered, “Alohomora!”

The door creaked open, exposing an expansive storage room, filled with all matter of Ministry propaganda as well as Umbridge’s personal stash of suspiciously innocent looking objects. Also, mixed within the mess, were all the items Umbridge had confiscated from various students while they were having fun in the courtyards.

Balls, Frisbees, streamers, dice, wizard chess boards, and so much more were piled high, looking like a dragon horde from one of the stained glass windows in the upper halls.

“Jackpot,” George and Fred said together.

Hermione frowned and looked in the corner. Thrown in the back without as much as a shelf to put them on were hundreds of books that looked like they had been taken from the library and thrown into the pile. Books that detailed defencive spell casting, detecting Dark Magic, and countless other useful topics littered the corner.

And as if to an more insult to the injury, beside the books was a pile of jars of ingredients that looked like they had been stolen from Severus’ classroom ingredients, many of which were used for teaching potions involving counteracting the effects of Dark Magic… all of which had been missing the last few weeks during inventory. All of which… the orders for replacements had been suspiciously lost.

Hermione clenched her fist, her hand trembling. Her hand formed into a fist, her claws digging into her palms as her hand shook in anger.

“Yeah, that’s why we wanted to bring you here, Hermione,” Fred and George chimed together.

Hermione sent her senses out, examining the storage room with a long list of tests, Her hand splayed out her fingers, and her lips pursed into a line. She turned slowly, examining the piles without touching them.

No wards. No traps. It was just a storage room. A very badly guarded storage room.

Hermione’s face went impassive as she turned to Fred and George, her eyes dark. “Our next schedule make-up detention for our affiliation with Dumbledore’s Army is this afternoon, yes?”

“Evil toad wouldn’t even accept the detention we had with the other professors as being ‘a proper punishment for the crime,’” Fred answered.

“But, yes, it’s this afternoon,” George added.

Hermione straightened her back and let a disturbingly disconcerting smile spread across her face. “Well, then. Let us make it a detention to remember, shall we?”

Fred and George’s eyes widened and then changed into a broad grin. “You’re on!”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Umbridge sat at the front of the Great Hall after having locked the main door with an unsettling amount of mechanical locks to keep any miscreant children or curious professors from disturbing the punishment. She sat in Dumbledore’s Head Chair, having redecorated it to fit her tastes of colour and decor, inflicting cats in relief in various acts of disturbingly cute cat behaviour all over it.

She poured her tea as she watched the entire room of Ministry traitors and horrible children in general writing out their lines with great self-satisfaction. She had brought out her special quills for the occasion. Now that she was Headmaster of the school, she had the power to bring back the right to punish these nasty, horrible, misbehaving children as they deserved—especially the Granger girl, who thought herself a real witch, when no witch worth their salt would ever be born of such low-grade Muggle-born stock. What Cornelius didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him anyway.

She had a great amount of satisfaction taking Granger away from Snape in the middle of a class to haul her off to her proper punishment. After all, she had signed the damning piece of parchment with all of her conspirator friends. She deserved to be punished with the rest.

Snape had given Umbridge one of his trademark glares that somehow managed to say everything and give away nothing at the same time. Despite herself, Umbridge found the man’s actual gaze unnerving, and she always did her best to make him seem smaller in comparison to her by humiliating him, but deep down, a part of her knew he was out of her league.

Even Cornelius had said Lucius Malfoy had the utmost respect for the man and had warned her not to mess with anything that was “his.” For some reason, however, she couldn’t stop messing with Snape’s things, whether it be his disgusting potion ingredient orders that served absolutely no purpose in her own mind or by taking away things from his Apprentice, whom she saw as nothing but a pretender, even after having made her formal apology to the Hall of Masters about her status. She may not be able to punish the impertinent girl as a student after this, but she was going to make use of this particular punishment under the Ministry’s official mantle make up for anything she might have missed out on.

All of the students who had been stupid enough to sign their name to a paper with Dumbledore’s name on it were now sitting behind the desks in front of her, painfully writing the line “I shall not betray the Ministry by spreading lies.”

Pop!POP!bang.rattlerattlerattle.ZING!

Laughter and cheering were going on in the outer corridor from behind the locked door of the Great Hall.

ZING!rattlerattleFOOPpoppoppopBOING!

The quiet moans of discomfort Umbridge was enjoying was being interrupted by merriment outside the Great Hall. When Umbridge looked around to the students in front of her, none of them even looked up from their line writing. They just continued writing, oblivious to the sounds and to her in equal measure.

Umbridge twitched in her chair and pointed her wand at the door, unlocking the many locks that barred the door closed. As the great doors swung open, she was greeted with the sight of an expansive swamp that had formed in front of the doors, taking up the entire corridor.

Students were using gondolas to propel themselves across the swamp. Fireflies were swarming around the darkened corridor, wisps were flitting about the surface of the swamp water, and multiple phosphorescent plants had taken up the corridors. To top it all off fireworks were zinging down the corridors in the air, along with a disturbing number of fanged Frisbees, spark balls, and countless other contraband toys that Umbridge had confiscated and stashed away.

She looked accusingly at the students that were in the detention with her, but all of them were writing their lines.

A line of books were flapping in the air across the swamp being chased by Madam Pince, who was catching each one of her lost library books with a butterfly net as one of the first year students was paddling the gondola for her.

Another gondola was going by in the opposite direction with a group of third year students with a silver tabby cat at the helm of the gondola. “Paddle faster, Jessie,” one of the students said. “We’ll be late to transfiguration class!”

“Meow!” the silver tabby cat meowed in seeming agreement.

A dark gondola slowly drifted by with the stoic form of Severus Snape sitting in it. He had a large net on a pole in his hands as he fished out jars of his lost and now found potion ingredients out of the swamp with a disgusted look on his face.

Flitwick drifted by in a small gondola, followed by about 5 more filled with his students. He directed them on how to gather fireflies safely into jars and use them as light sources in survival situations where mage-lights were not practical to be seen.

Pomona Sprout was standing in waders with a class of her own, all of them standing around a giant plant that looked like a pod with teeth. She was stroking it under the chin so it would open its mouth. She pointed at the teeth, calling the specimen flawless.

The swamp had expanded down the entire corridor, making it impossible to transverse from one side of the school to the other without some sort of boat.

All the chatter in the hallway turned swamp seemed to agree only two things: they had no idea where it had come from, but it was fascinating in the extreme.

The bell rang, and Umbridge seethed, deprived of her enjoyment of the DA students’ suffering. “You are dismissed,” Umbridge hissed, hoping at the very least that the students would have to trudge through the swamp and be uncomfortable.

But as each of the students came to the edge of the Great Hall and the new swamp, a group of seventh year students dutifully paddled by, picking up the group of them and paddling them off down the corridor.

It was only when the bell rang again that Umbridge realised that all the students had gone off to their final classes before the evening meal… leaving her alone at the edge of a swamp with no ride out.

The sound of Umbridge’s scream of frustration echoed down the swampy corridor hallway.

The croaking of the swamp frogs were her only reply.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“That numbing and healing ointment was the best, Hermione,” Fred and George said, slapping her on the back as they sat in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“It was brilliant!” Harry agreed. “Those awful quills didn’t even leave a scar.

Hermione smiled. “That portable swamp was pretty amazing too, you two.”

Fred and George wiggled their eyebrows. “It’s one of the items we were developing for our joke shop business.”

“Pity we haven’t had time to develop a way to dispel it yet,” Fred said with no sincerity.

“Absolute tragedy, really,” George agreed.

Neville snickered. “That swamp was brilliant. Did you see Flitwick teaching his class how to catch fireflies right in front of Umbridge? That was beyond hilarious.”

“That was some great work crafting those gondolas for the students, Neville,” Hermione said.

Neville blushed. “It was nothing.”

Hermione grinned at him. “Far from nothing. I think Professor McGonagall enjoyed them so much she wants to keep the swamp.

“Professor Flitwick would agree, I think,” Ron added, “and Professor Sprout.”

Hermione grinned from ear to ear. “Excellent.”

“Where are we going to meet now?” Neville asked sadly. “Now that Umbridge knows where the Room of Requirement is.”

Harry slumped. “I never wanted to get people hurt. I don’t want to get them hurt again because of me.”

“Rubbish,” Seamus added from across the room, causing Harry to jolt his head up in surprise. “You’re teaching us real stuff, Harry. Even I can see that. Took me a while to get my head out of my arse, but I’ve already said how sorry I was about that.”

Fred and George nodded. “This is the stuff worth taking punishment for, Harry.”

Cormac McLaggen came through the entrance portal with his book-bag slung over his shoulder. “Drama in the halls,” he said. “Someone let loose a niffler into Umbridge’s office and she’s blaming Hagrid for it. She ripe to fire him, I’m pretty sure.” Cormac yawned and headed up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory.

Seamus and Neville caught the yawns from Cormac and nodded goodnight to the gathered before retreating up to the boy’s dormitories as well.

“Hagrid doesn’t even go where her office is,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes. “How can she even believe that?”

“I don’t think logic is something we can base her thoughts on, Ron,” Harry said with a concerned face.

“We need to talk to Hagrid,” Hermione suggested. “Maybe if we can convince him to change his lessons a little to match what the Ministry wants… even just until something is done about Umbridge…”

Ron shook his head. “You know Hagrid… he’s convinced the dangerous creatures are harmless, which is not what Umbridge wants him teaching.”

“Let’s sneak off to see him tomorrow,” Harry said. “Easter break is coming up fast. If we can get to that, we’ll have more time to plan something.”

Multiple heads shook in agreement.

Ron shook his head in negative. “I can’t. Tomorrow is the Quidditch game. It’d be really obvious if I weren’t going to show.”

Harry patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Ron. You just show those Ravenclaw what for, and Hermione and I will sneak off while the crowd is busy.”

 

Hermione stood, stretching as she shrugged her shoulders and her robes fell about her shoulders. “I have to go,” she said with a yawn. “Professor Snape is on patrol tonight, so you know what that means.”

Neville shivered, despite himself.

Hermione smirked, picking up her books and exited the exit portal.

“Ginny hasn’t been quite right in the head since Umbridge forced Hermione to move out of the Tower,” Ron said sadly.

“Well there is one more reason we need to get Umbridge out of power,” Neville said. “Can you imagine having to share quarters with Snape?”

Multiple involuntary shivers went through those gathered.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hagrid?” Harry grunted as he had to leap over a few tree roots and brambles to follow him. “Where are we going?”

“Bit further,” Hagrid said, practically dragging Harry along behind him. “C’mon, Harry… we need to keep together now.” (OotP 688)

For a man whose bulk was massive in comparison to the relatively scrawny forms of Harry and Hermione, Hagrid navigated the Dark Forest with surprising ease. The half-giant practically dragged them through brambles and roots in seemingly random directions, getting the two of them tangled in so many brambles that often Hagrid was fifty some feet out before he realised Harry and Hermione were back trying to disentangle themselves from whatever he blew right past. For a man who had admonished them to stay together, his together awareness was sadly lacking.

They were deep in the forest now, far from the familiar areas around Hagrid’s hut. Harry was struggling to see his hand in front of his face in the increasing gloom of the highly sheltered area of the forest. Harry fidgeted visibly, and Hermione was getting increasingly agitated. She shifted back and forth almost nervously, her lips were parted as she took in the air as if she were preparing to dash off at any given moment. There was a wildness about her that was increasing the deeper and deeper they were walking towards… wherever they were walking towards. Harry admitted he had no idea where they were going, and he questioned if Hagrid even knew where he was taking them.

Harry found himself recounting the multiple times Hagrid had taken them into the Dark Forest and how many times it had ended well… and found himself wondering if there was ever a time Hagrid had taken them or told them to go into the Dark Forest where it had not ended with giant spiders chasing them in the middle of the night, cloaked men drinking blood from slain unicorns, or with Malfoy being dragged off to the hospital due to being attack by an angry hippogriff. The odds were not in their favour… and that made him even more nervous.

“Look,” Hagrid explained at last as they came to a halt in the gloom. “I wouldn’t be tellin’ this at all if I didn’ have ter. See, I may be getting the sack soon, with Dumbledore gone and all see… and I can’ leave withou’… telling someone… because I’ll need you to help me…”

“Of course we’ll help you!” Harry blurted at once. “What do you need us to do?”

Hermione shot Harry a glare straight out of the Snape Handbook of Accusatory Expressions that seemed to scream “How idiotic can you be in one sitting, Harry Potter?”

Harry gave her a wide-eyed half-apologetic look. He was always about helping his friends, perhaps because he never really felt like he had that many, but when he though about it, he realised he might have thought a little harder before just volunteering help to Hagrid’s yet unknown request like anything was okay.

Hagrid sniffed and gave Harry a big pat on the shoulder that slammed the young wizard into a tree with an rustle of bark and pine needles. “I knew I could count on ye,” Hagrid gushed.

It was almost a good half hour later before Hagrid stopped them again, shoving his hand out to keep them from going further. Hagrid pulled a crossbow off his shoulder that had gone completely unnoticed until that point.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to be in danger!” Hermione hissed at Hagrid.

“Ah well… yeh see… It’s not about… just hold on, okay?” Hagrid stammered.

There was a huge form in front of them that looked very much like a mound of earth of some equally large animal’s den. Harry went through what animals would make such a large den in the earth and came up with nothing he wanted to meet face to face.

“He’s perfectly harmless, you see?” Hagrid said in a rush. “He just doesn’t know ‘is own strength. He can get his own food… it’s just company he’ll be needin.’”

Hagrid poked the “mound of earth” with a tree branch, and when the mound of earth stood up and rubbed his eyes, Harry regretted letting his mouth run up and volunteer his help before knowing the whole story almost immediately.

“A giant?” Harry moaned. “You brought back a giant?”

“He’s not just a giant,” Hagrid explained. “He’s…. He’s my brother.”

Harry shot Hagrid a look of pure disbelief.

“Well… me half brother,” Hagrid said, wringing his hands. Harry could tell Hagrid was desperate to have Harry believe him, but Harry was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation. “The other giants… they were beating on him. I couldn’t a’ leave him ‘ere getting all beat up.”

The half-giant’s brother seemed to be waking up a little better, having rubbed the sleep and pine needles out of his eyes.

“All righ’, Grawpy?” Hagrid said in a cheerful voice. “Had a nice sleep, eh? I brought yeh some friends to meet. They’ll be takin’ care of ye when I’m gone.”

Grawp staggered as he started to move, steadying himself on one of the larger trees. The tree tilted precariously, unaccustomed to being bend in that particular direction.

“This is Harry, Grawp! And this is Hermione. They’ll be comin’ an’ visitin’ yeh. Is’n tha’ nice? Eh? Two friends fer yeh ter — GRAWPY, NO!” Hagrid yelled.

Grawp’s hand shot out of nowhere towards Harry, and Hermione slammed into him, shoving him aside. Grawp’s hand tightened around Hermione, and Hermione let out an ear piercing scream that Harry never knew Hermione was capable of. He heard her bones cracking under Grawp’s strong grip.

“BAD BOY, GRAWPY!” Hagrid yelled as Hermione was struggling in Grawp’s grip.

At first, it seemed like Hermione was going to struggle free on her own, her arms worked against the giant’s fingers, clawing at them to free herself, but the giant seemed to realise that the pain he was experiencing could be relieved by pinning her clawing movements even further.

A very angry little hippogriff was chirping hysterically at the giant, diving for his eyes, and ears. Grawp swatted the little hippogriff squarely, sending Vik flying off into the gloom with a squeak.

Hermione’s eyes were wild in fear as her arms were pinned against her body as Hagrid’s brother squeezed her ever tighter. “VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON’ GRAB—”

The sounds of Hermione’s bones being crushed further caused Harry to go for his wand. His best friend was being crushed to death, and at that moment, any promise he had made to Hagrid seemed to pale in comparison to the fact that if he didn’t do something, his friend was going to be crushed.

Harry pointed his wand at Grawp and uttered off a spell.

“No!” Hagrid screamed, throwing himself in front of Harry, taking the spell for his half-brother. Hagrid was wrapped in the ropes of Harry’s spell.

There was a sharp crack, and Hermione went limp. Grawp shook her body a few times like a dog might shake a toy.

Suddenly there was the sound of hoof beats and yelling. Arrows went flying towards Grawp as an angry patrol of centaurs thundered into the gloom.

Harry found himself surrounded by angry centaurs, arrows aimed at his face. Hagrid was in no better shape, as he was now wrapped in the ropes of Harry’s spell.

“He had a crossbow!” one of the centaurs yelled angrily, rearing up on his hind legs and kicking outward to Grawp, while another centaur went on his forelegs and kicked backwards against Grawp’s knee with an audible CRACK!

“He calls us friend and brings weapons against us!” a dappled grey centaur yelled.

A group of centaurs sent another throng of arrows at Grawp, sticking into his hand, and the giant finally let go of Hermione, flinging her away into the gloom. Another wave of centaurs proceeded to kick his legs mercilessly, driving him away into the darkness, as Hagrid struggled to get up and follow after him.

Harry tried to run towards her, but arrow tips blocked his way, shoving into his face and neck as the centaurs that wielded them glared at him angrily.

“We told you this was a fool’s errand, half-giant,” a deep voice intoned as a larger centaur walked out of the gloom. In his arms was Hermione’s limp form. “And you dare walk into our territory with a weapon to use against us while the true danger kills one of your own children.”

Harry’s heart fell into his stomach as he stared uncomprehendingly to Hermione’s limp form. She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be.

A dark black centaur thundered up to the other centaur. “We’ve driven him across the river, Magorian… Hermione?”

Rage marked every line on the black centaur’s expression and body language. He reared up and beat the air with his hooves as he spun and slammed his hooves down by Hagrid’s head over and over, barely missing him. “You talk of harmlessness. You talk of misunderstanding. Look at what your ignorance has brought! Harmless does not do this to one in your care!” One of the centaur’s hooves slammed down on Hagrid’s chest with a crack.

“Enough, Bane!” Magorian said sharply. “Take Hermione to the camp. We will deal with the half-giant.”

Bane bared his teeth, but in a strange contrast, pulled Hermione into his arms and against his chest, tucking her against him as one would a sleeping child. He snorted at Hagrid once more before wheeling around and thundering off into the dark of the woods, carrying Hermione with him.

“You, boy,” Magorian said lowly, gesturing to Harry. “Untie your professor.”

Harry gulped as the arrows in his face lowered, and he ran to Hagrid and pulled the ropes off him so he could stand. Hagrid wheezed, clutching his chest where Bane’s hoof had smashed into his sternum. He stood shakily.

“We do not slaughter foals,” Magorian said darkly, staring at Hagrid with the look that could turn water into ice. “Nor shall we slay you in front of your young for the crime you have committed against us and your own young. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Take your boy away from this place and leave.”

Magorian jerked his head and the centaurs surrounding Harry and Hagrid returned to his side and they all turned to leave.

“I won’ be kept outta the fores’ by a bunch of mules like you!” said Hagrid loudly.

“Hagrid!” Harry hissed, pulling on his sleeve. Magorian and the rest of the centaurs turned slowly around to stare at Hagrid, their bodies tense. Harry tugged even harder on Hagrid, wondering what would have possessed the half-giant who had just been giving a pardon to leave peacefully to get all up in their faces again.

“We’ve known what you’ve been keeping in the forest for months now, Hagrid,” Magorian said coldly. “In respect for our agreement with Dumbledore, we did not retaliate when your monstrosity tried to eat one of our dams and attack those that rose to her defence. Do not make us regret that service.”

“You’ll tolerate him as long as he’s here, it’s as much his forest as yours!” Hagrid yelled. Harry pushed frantically with all his might against Hagrid’s coat, trying to move him away from the encounter.

Magorian took a few steps forward to Hagrid, his hoof slammed into the crossbow on the ground. “Tell me, Hagrid,” he said with a dangerously quiet voice. “If Hermione dies from her wounds caused by your ignorance, will you still stand here in my face, preaching to me of rightness for a giant you dragged across the country against his will and tied to a tree with ropes to live in the very forest my ancestors have hunted in since before you were born? When you could not even be bothered to ask, even as a token gesture, about how we felt about it?”

Hagrid’s face was turning red now, and he seemed to be caught between anger and embarrassment.

“Even now, you stand there, thinking of your giant kin, instead of the young girl he crushed between his fingers like so many bundles of firewood. How dare you speak to us of rights. How dare you speak to us of kindness,” Magorian spat at him. He slammed his hooves into the crossbow on the ground, snapping the bolt and the release mechanism to pieces. “Get out of our forest. Bacchus. Escort them out. Be sure they leave.”

“Yes, Magorian,” a pinto centaur bowed stiffly and waited for Harry and Hagrid to leave.

“Please, Sir,” Harry blurted at Magorian’s back.

The elder centaur fixed him with gaze that was all out of kindness.

“Please, may I see Hermione,” Harry pleaded. “Please… she’s my friend.”

Magorian narrowed his eyes at the young wizard. “Firenze,” he snapped.

“Yes, Magorian?” the palomino centaur stepped out of the gloom.

“Escort young Harry Potter to his friend,” Magorian said, stamping his front hoof.

“It shall be done,” Firenze said with a slight bow of his head.

Magorian set a fierce gaze upon Harry. “You are a guest in our home, Harry Potter,” he said. “Do not make me regret allowing you in it.”

Harry nodded quickly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Follow me, Harry,” Firenze said, he flicked his tail a few times as he turned and started down the path without him.

Harry hurried to his side.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was a little overwhelmed.

Centaurs were rushing around the camp as he was escorted in by Firenze. The palomino centaur guided him into the camp gently, but his face was stern. “This is no small thing, Harry,” Firenze said softly. “This is the heart of our camp. All eyes will be on you. Do not make yourself a fool.”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded.

As Harry came in, young centaurs snorted and reared up on their hind legs and shied backwards, pushing the younger colts and fillies behind them towards the adults. The adults put themselves between him and and their young, staring at him with silent distrust.

“Human,” he heard them whisper.

“A human in our camp!” another replied.

Harry saw Hermione laying under a lean-to on a pile of furs. Her breaths were coming in sharp heaves and lifts, with painful wheezes woven in between. Her body was struggling to compensate for the damage she had taken in saving Harry from a similar fate.

A young female centaur was down on the ground beside Hermione, folding her legs against her body as she was stroking Hermione’s hair with a brush. It seemed almost like a ritual. Her hand would reach out and stroke Hermione’s arm, petting it as she brushed her hair, and keeping contact with her.

Crack.

The sound of apparition broke through the camp and the foreboding figure of the Potion Master of Hogwarts broke into the clearing. His face was pale, more pale than Harry remembered seeing him. In his arms was a basket of jars, bandages, and tins. Part of Harry boggled at the extent of the Apprenticeship bond and if it was normal for a Master to sense their Apprentice’s condition.

Equally surprising to Harry, was that the centaurs made way for the Potion Master, with none of the fuss they made for Harry.

Snape glided over to Hermione like a spectre. His hand reached out to touch her forehead even as he dropped the basket beside him and had his wand out to chant over her a few times. The words seemed almost song-like and out of place coming from Snape’s throat.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Snape undid her robes, exposing her badly bruised ribs.

Snape winced as he pulled the robe away and saw the bruises shaped like four fingers and a thumb around her arms and torso. His lips pursed into a thin line of anger, but hand shot out to the basket, pulling out bandages and liniment. He dunked the bandages in the liniment and used his wand to wrap Hermione’s torso with the medicine soaked cloth.

He guided the bandages around her arms as well, and then pulled out lighter cloth, which he wrapped around the other bandages in a second layer. He propped Hermione up with his hand, pulling a potion out of the basket and unstoppered it. He sniffed the potion and brought it to her lips. “Drink,” he commanded.

Hermione’s lips worked on the flask end, but she swallowed the potion as ordered, her face wincing as the flavor apparently annoyed her.

Snape laid her back against the furs and cast his wand over her again, resuming his chanting something over and over again in a soft song-like voice.

Hermione’s laboured breathing finally evened out, and looked up into Severus’ face with the kind of relief that Harry echoed. He knew his friend would be okay. His brave friend who was always throwing herself into his defence…

“Father,” Hermione whispered, her eyes drifting closed.

Harry’s head shot up. Hermione rarely talked about her parents, save the random comment about dentistry and how they supported her even though they could not understand her anymore. Hermione must be in a lot of pain to be calling for her father in a place like this.

Hermione’s hand was tightly clenching Snape’s for quite some time before her grip finally relaxed. The Potion Master’s expression was blank, but his pale hand slipped out of her grip and repositioned over her hand. He pulled the nearby quilt over, covering her as she recovered.

The filly beside Hermione pawed at his arm, much like she had been doing with Hermione. Her eyes met Snape’s with the kind of appeal Harry would have expected to see in a young child who really, really wanted that puppy in the window.

“She will be fine, Trefoil,” Snape said softly. “Stay with her, if you like. It will help her to be near your warmth.”

It was then Harry realised what had happened to Vik after he had been swatted by Grawp.

Snape had reached into his hair and pulled out the little hippogriff and gently placed him into Hermione’s hair. Vik chirped plaintively, and burrowed against her neck with concern. That must have been how Snape knew something was wrong.

Trefoil placed herself as close as possible to Hermione as and older centaur moved in beside Hermione as well. The dappled chestnut mare went down beside her, folding her legs carefully underneath her body, but tucked herself against Hermione as close as possible. She stretched out her hand and groomed the young filly with her hands, much as the filly had done with Hermione.

Snape stood stiffly, pausing only a moment to pull the quilt more securely over Hermione before rising to his full height.

Magorian and Bane walked side by side into the camp as the other centaurs made way for them. Snape faced them, almost wearily. He bowed his head slightly.

“She may stay here with our camp, Master Snape,” Magorian said as he walked in. “It would be ill advised to move her so soon. Best she rest amongst the herd, where our conjoined magic can settle her heart as the stars settle her soul.”

Snape nodded silently, looking over to where his Apprentice was nestled between the two centaurs. His fist tightened visibly. “How is it this happened?”

Magorian inclined his head. He shot a glance over to Harry, who immediately cast his gaze down. “She shoved the boy out of the way of the giant’s grip,” he said grimly. The giant pinned her arms to her body and crushed the air from her lungs.”

“The giant is a menace,” Bane spat with a curl of his lips. “It endangers our young and our home and those we hold dear to us. Twice she has thrown herself into its grip to save an innocent, and each time shed her own blood to keep it safe. Does she have to die before the half-giant realises that he has brought death to our home?”

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably at the talk of Hagrid. Part of him felt their anger was justified. While Hermione had laid limply in Grawp’s hand, Hagrid had still flung himself in front of Harry’s binding spell rather than see anything happen to his giant half-brother. While Harry could understand family bonds, as he would have thrown himself in front of danger to his godfather in a heartbeat, Hagrid had known Hermione far longer than the giant that had practically killed her. Yet, part of Harry wanted to be soft on the half-giant. He’d been a stalwart friend since before he even knew what Hogwarts really was… He had promised to help Hagrid, and he didn’t go back on his word.

Harry slapped his own face with his palm. How could he keep his promise to Hagrid and stand up for his friend at the same time? What if the giant really was misunderstood? What if it wasn’t? The centaurs did not exactly seem unreasonable in their anger… and Hermione… she was living proof that being misunderstood could still get someone killed.

Harry looked up. More centaurs had started to gather around Hermione, melding their bodies together in a sort of living wall. They talked with each other softly and settled around, some of them dozed in the firelight.

“The planets do not wish her death, Master Snape,” Magorian said, snapping Harry out of his chain of thoughts. “She will be safe here until she is safe to return to your school.”

Harry wondered how much of the conversation he had unintentionally tuned out. It was already dark now, and the firelight was flickering over the man and horse shapes with an eerie surreal quality.

Snape inhaled and exhaled softly. He seemed to realise something, and he sloughed off his outer robe from his shoulders and handed it to Magorian. “In case she wakes in the night.”

The elder centaur nodded, seeming to understand the gesture even though Harry did not. He took the robe with a sort of reverence. He passed it into the herd and one by one, each centaur passed it in until it got to Hermione, where one of the surrounding centaurs tucked it under her head and near her face like a pillow.

“Come, Potter,” Snape’s voice said without inflection. “It is time to go.” Snape held out his arm.

Harry looked wide-eyed at the Potion Master.

“Unless you prefer to… walk in the Dark Forest alone and unescorted?” Snape added with a sniff.

Harry tentatively touched Snape’s extended arm, nervous in the extreme.

Snape inclined his head at Magorian and with a crack, the pair disapparated.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The moment Harry arrived at the edge of the Dark Forest near Hagrid’s hut, he braced himself on a nearby tree and hurled the contents of his stomach out on the forest floor.

Snape was silently staring at him as Harry recovered. Harry met his eyes with discomfort, slightly more than just embarrassed.

“First time, Potter?” Snape asked. His voice was not mocking, strangely enough.

Harry nodded with effort, feeling like he might just attempt hurling again, even with an empty stomach.

“Most find their first time… uncomfortable,” the dark wizard said neutrally. He pulled a small vial out from his pocket, offering it.

Harry looked at the small vial with trepidation.

“It is not poison, Potter, but if you prefer to feel like your stomach is being twisted inside out, by all me—” Snape said.

Harry took the vial, opened it, and quaffed it quickly.

Snape looked at him with an arched eyebrow as he took the empty vial between two of his fingers as one would perhaps pick up a stanky sock, and stashed it back in his pocket with an unreadable expression.

Harry, much to his relief, felt much better. His stomach no longer felt like it was trying to turn itself into an origami crane.

“I presume you remember the way back to Hogwarts from here, Potter?” Snape’s voice was a rumble of velvet and silk.

Harry nodded. “Yes, thank you, Professor Snape,” he said awkwardly, and hurried up the path.

Half way up the path, Harry turned to look behind him and saw that Snape was walking into Hagrid’s hut, and curiosity burned within him. Harry hurried back down the path to hide under Hagrid’s chronically broken window.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Snape was livid—perhaps beyond livid—at the condition of his Apprentice, yet again, by the hand of Hagrid’s latest pet project. He didn’t care if the giant was his father, brother, aunt, cousin, or second cousin once removed… the sound of Hermione’s mental scream to him had almost caused him to blow up the cauldron he had been tending the very second she had reached out to him in her pain.

It had only been, perhaps, her channelling all her silent and wandless magic into partially shielding her body from physical crushing in combination with the armour he had gifted her during Christmas that had saved her from a fate a typical human would have encountered within the first few seconds. And Severus had felt it all as it happened, sharing her terror and her pain as his own as he struggled to grab everything he thought he might need before running out to the boundaries of Hogwarts so he could actually apparate.

To make matters worse, Hermione had leapt in to protect Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Attracted-Trouble-Like-A-Niffler-Hunted-Treasure, who was equally important to protect from an early demise as Hermione herself. The only difference was that everyone seemed to know that Harry Potter was to be saved for some yet unknown destiny, and the only one that knew Hermione’s real worth weren’t exactly crowing about it from atop Hogwarts’ parapets.

Hermione—his Apprentice and daughter in all the ways that mattered and even a few that didn’t—had been injured, and it had not been in battle in a war or on a mission where such a thing were to be utterly expected. She had been damaged protecting Harry Potter from Hagrid’s bloody half-brother who didn’t even want to be there in the first place.

All these thoughts were rushing though Severus’ mind as he stood rigidly against Rubeus Hagrid, shoving his wand directly against the half-giants neck as though he intended to give him a painful fatal sort of neck piercing.

The half-giant, even though he towered over the Potion Master, cringed against the smaller man’s wand and the intensity of his fury. Severus’ face was impassive as though carved from stone, and his eyes were fathomless, but behind that lack of emotion was something far more dangerous—the threat of what would happen if all of the carefully rigid controls Snape had over his emotions were to fall and release the flood behind.

“I’m sorry!” Hagrid groveled, as he flicked his eyes to meet Snape’s even as he flicked them upwards to avoid looking at him at the same time. “I dinna know!”

“You…didn’t…know,” Snape repeated icily. “You…didn’t… know.” He spat out the last word as though it were offensive in every known language. “You drag a sixteen foot giant cross-country across Europe to Hogwarts and you… didn’t… know.”

“He’s ‘armless,” Hagrid pleaded. “He ‘ust don’t know ‘is own strength is all!”

“Harmless?” Severus said steely. “My Apprentice lay dangling limply with all of her ribs crushed in the hand of your harmless half-brother? Perhaps we are having a difference of language in this… are we speaking the same Queen’s English? Perhaps you can enlighten me as to the definition of harmless?” Severus’ obsidian eyes had a fire about them as he glared at Hagrid.

Hagrid squirmed at being kept at wand point. “He just needs to learn the language is all. Learn that people want ‘im around, ya see? Then he won’t be trying to leave anymore.”

Severus poked his wand a little deeper into Hagrid’s neck. “And why would any one with half a brain cell left to their head want that around after seeing what it did today?” Snape’s refusal to even call Grawp by his name or even as a he seemed to fairly indicative as to his true opinion of Hagrid’s half-brother. “It seems that the only one who wants your little pet project to stay is you. Is it not enough that the walking monstrosity almost killed my Apprentice right in front of you? Would it make a difference if it tore the head off one of the thestrals or the hippogriffs before your very eyes? Or perhaps you would prefer if it happened in front of Umbridge? It almost ate one of the centaur mares, Hagrid. ATE her. In front of the herd and her filly.”

“No, no,” Hagrid moaned. “He wouldn’t do that if he knew. That’s they key. I just have to teach him better.”

“Your delusions of harmless needs to end, Hagrid,” Severus hissed. “Dumbledore may think you are trustworthy, but I will never trust you. Not now. Not ever. It is for his sake alone that I don’t pour something agonising down your throat and leave you here to smother as you lungs slowly liquidise.

“If you ever harm my Apprentice again though action or inaction, Hagrid,” Severus hissed. “I swear to Merlin the last thing on this earth will be you having to worry about your job.”

Severus jerked his wand away and spun on his heels, exiting Hagrid’s hut with a swirl of motion that seemed like a tornado. He slammed the door behind him, tearing up the path back to Hogwarts with eerily silent footsteps.

Harry watched Hagrid sink into the chair by the fire and put his face into his hands as Fang poked his head out from under the table he had been hiding under. Harry looked up the path where the figure of the Potion Master of Hogwarts disappeared under the archway and out of sight. Bastard git of the dungeon Snape may be, but at that very moment, Harry could not have asked for a better man to stand up for his friend than Severus Snape. Scary, intimidating, terrifying, imposing, and formidable Severus Snape.

Dark wizard status aside, Severus Snape did not need magic to scare the pants off him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. This chapter go a little carried away with me! Sorry! Protective father-Snape is a scary scary thing. I think Harry might be understanding now that while Hermione is definitely protecting his sorry butt, Snape is definitely protecting hers.


	48. Fishing with Centaurs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and the Pack spend time with the centaur herd.  
> Severus demands to know what Viktor's intentions are toward his daughter.

**Chapter 48: Fishing With Centaurs**

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, smelling her Master’s comforting scent and relaxed. Even more slowly, the scent of the musk of horse mixed in with other distinctive scents.

A soft whicker greeted her, and Trefoil stroked her arm gently, smiling at her.

“Oh,” Hermione said softly. “Hi.”

The filly smiled at her, stroking her hair gently with her hands.

Hermione stretched slowly, wincing slightly as her ribs complained that while they were at least mended together, they were not “happy” with her by any stretch of the imagination. “Why am I always being crushed half to death?” Hermione moaned. “Why couldn’t someone just throw a hex at me, so I could use one of the three hundred counter hexes I know?”

Trefoil whickered softly at her, smiling.

“I’m happy to be here too,” Hermione said with a smile. She reached out instinctively to her Master, sending him a sleepy greeting and a heartfelt thanks.

Severus’ warm reply was wordless, but it was as tangible as a hug, and she smiled in relief. She picked up Severus’ robe and folded it neatly, shrinking it and stashing it in her robe for safe keeping. She inspected her wand, and to her relief, it was not damaged in the way her ribs had experienced.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to remember what had happened in between being used as a stress ball by a giant and having her ribs broken and her lungs collapsed. Sadly, her memory was not being very helpful save for the memories of pain.

Little Vik chirped cutely from her shoulder and she patted the little hippogriff affectionately.

“Good morning,” Firenze greeted her as he walked into the camp, carrying bundles of wood. He heaved them off his back and onto the pile nearby, pausing to throw a few pieces onto the fire.

“Good morning,” Hermione greeted with a slight nod. “I hope I didn’t cause too much drama.”

“You? Nothing we could not handle, Hermione,” Firenze said with a chuckle. “I am glad to see you recovering quickly after the Owl Master’s tending.”

Hermione smiled. “He left his robe here. It must have been late.”

Firenze snorted. “He knew if you woke without his scent nearby in a strange place after what you had been through, it would take you far more minutes to calm you back down than if he just left something of his near as you slept.”

Hermione blushed. “Am I that transparent?”

The centaur chuckled. “To those that know the ways of scents and herd and pack, you are an easier study.”

Hermione grinned.

Firenze handed her a dried piece of jerky. “Hungry, I would imagine.”

Hermione took the jerky gratefully, tearing into it with enthusiasm. She broke off a little of it when she saw the filly staring at her, sharing her spoils.

“Hey now, Trefoil,” Firenze scolded. “That was for Hermione.” He reared up on his hind legs playfully, swinging out his front legs to shoo the filly off to find her dam.

The filly squealed and bucked, trotting away just out of reach of Firenze’s hooves.

“Hrmph,” Firenze commented, handing Hermione another piece of jerky.

Hermione took the second piece gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Never a problem,” he replied. “It is because of you and your family that we have more reserves than ever we have had, even now, coming out of winter.”

“I’m glad your stocks have served you well,” Hermione admitted. “But I think Viktor has been wanting us to hunt you up another tuna from the sea.”

Firenze laughed. “We would not complain for such exotic foods,” he chuckled. “The foals are so spoilt this year. Those that cannot eat solid food enjoy rich milk from their dams. Those that can eat solid food are enjoying such a variety of foods.”

“Where are the others this morning?” Hermione asked curiously.

“After your injury, Magorian wished to move the camp again, in the case the giant wanders again,” Firenze explained. “A few of us will stay in this camp a few days to make it seem lived in.”

Hermione nodded. “I’m surprised Chara did not take Trefoil with her earlier.”

Firenze laughed. “Trefoil, like her name, is stuck on you. Chara knew she would not leave you, so it was safe to leave her with you until you woke. Once I saw you were awake however, I drove the miscreant back to her dam.”

Hermione giggled.

“It seems your sleep amongst the herd has done you well, young Hermione,” Firenze said with a smile. “It is good you are as comfortable under the stars as a centaur.”

Hermione stretched, testing her limbs. “I feel amazingly well, considering,” she admitted.

“The planets did not wish your death,” he said simply as it was all that mattered. “In the meantime, we can only provide you scintillating conversation and amicable company.”

“I will try to be worthy of such amicable company,” Hermione replied with a wink.

Firenze grinned at her. “Your Ministry would shrink our territory down to nothing if it had its way or group us with like of vampires or hags. It is a pity that they cannot converse with us as one sentient being to another.”

“I’m not very proud of our Ministry at the moment, Firenze,” Hermione confessed. “They would have my head, if it were not so firmly attached to my neck.”

“I do not think I am alone in saying that all of us would prefer your head to remain firmly attached, young Hermione,” Firenze said with a smile. “It is good we finally have allies we can rely on. Magorian and Bane have never been so at ease, and that is saying something. Our foals are being raised in tolerance, and now there is no shame in carrying an ally upon one’s back.”

“I’m glad things are looking better for you,” Hermione replied. “I will admit I knew very little of your culture until this last year. Sadly, only the what I could read in book.”

“Books written by humans, I am willing to bet,” Firenze said with a snort.

“Alas,” Hermione said with a sad shake of her head.

“It is not so difficult to see why,” Firenze admitted. “We are a secretive people. Too many betrayals by humans throughout history have tainted our relationships.”

Hermione looked sad.

“Do not be sad, Hermione,” Firenze soothed. “The herd is stronger with you and your family than ever they were before. What we have now is worth the suffering we may have had in the past.”

“Come,” Firenze said, kneeling down on his front legs. “I will take you to the new camp. You may be healing, but I would rather not be the one that has to explain to Magorian and Bane that I let our honoured ally walk her injured self to our new camp just after she was nearly crushed to death.”

Hermione make a choking laugh and slowly and carefully climbed onto Firenze’s back.

He lifted himself up carefully, tested to make sure her arms were around his waist, and took off into a smooth walk deeper into the Dark Forest.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The sound of an apparate resonated in the clearing, and the Sons of Durmstrang appeared with scowls on their faces until they saw Hermione leaning up against Trefoil. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading to the young filly and smiled at her brothers with genuine warmth.

Each of her brothers had baskets in their arms. Viktor set his down beside Hermione as he careful enfolded her. His hand touched her cheek as he looked into her eyes as if checking for her story written upon her retinas.

Each of the Sky Brothers set down their baskets by the fire. Each was filled with all manner of game animals and raw materials the centaurs would find useful. The young centaurs of the group hurried up to greet them, touching them, petting their hair and arms, and reinforcing their places as allies amongst the herd.

“You okay?” Viktor asked, pulling Hermione to his chest very gently. Hermione burrowed into Viktor with relief, taking in his familiar musk of the sea and simurgh.

“They’ve taken good care of me,” Hermione said. “Trefoil has been an excellent chaperon.”

The young filly grinned at Viktor, touching his arm and stroking it reassuringly. Viktor smiled back at her, gently stroking her hair in response to her ministrations.

“Draco is ready to sink fangs into certain giant,” Viktor said softly. “I am willing to assist. He say perfect time to run experiment on how lethal his venom is.”

“As are we, sestrá,” her brothers chimed together. “We figure start by setting giant on fire. Work our way to breaking all of bones.”

Hermione grasped Viktor’s hand and squeezed it. “I love you guys, but I’m fine,” she insisted, knowing that they would need to hear that often and confirm it just as often to prevent them from doing some unspeakable things to right the wrong against their sister. “My time here with the herd has really helped me heal faster.”

Polite stares of disbelief bombarded her as each of her brothers took her hands and looked into her face, much as Viktor had done, drew her against them as they pressed their face into her neck and inhaled, then released her.

“Draco says to tell you ‘would never forgive you if you died on him,’” Petya said.

Hermione chuckled. “I’m fine. I really am.”

“Many things would do to one who hurt you,” Viktor said darkly, his black eyes took on the qualities of a black hole, sucking in light and giving none. It was a characteristic Hermione was well versed in, having stared into her father’s fathomless eyes on a daily basis.

Hermione touched Viktor’s hair and threaded her fingers into it. She knew what he was feeling. It was the same one she had every time her brothers had to “talk her down” from her fighting gryphon rage. The rage demanded of her very simple, yet drastic things. Protect. Defend. Guard. Destroy those that threaten loved ones. Merciless rage. Protect at all costs. Oh yes, she could definitely identify that train of thought all too well.

Hermione pulled Viktor and her brothers close to her, rubbing herself upon him, reinforcing her scent upon his clothes and his skin. Just like the hundreds of small touches the centaur herd shared amongst their members, she reinforced their bonds with touch and scent combined. She had long since left behind how strange it had all seemed to her that she was so close to her adopted family, but if her stay amongst the herd of centaurs during her recovery taught her anything, it was that touch and scent of a loved one was perhaps the greatest gift to be given or received. All she had to do is look on the adoring eyes of Trefoil and as she kept a part of her touching Hermione at all time to see how powerful touch was.

Lazar looked at Trefoil, clinging to Hermione like the burr of her namesake. “I think we go fishing. Perhaps urchin wish to join us.”

Trefoil’s eyes widened and tensed with excitement as Viktor helped Hermione up from her seat amongst the furs.

Lazar bowed to Magorian as Trefoil ran excited circles around him. “If permission give, Magorian. Would take young one to fish with us.”

The elder centaur has an amused expression on his face as he watched Trefoil’s excited prancing around his feet. “I do not know, Lazar. She doesn’t even have a fishing pole yet.”

Trefoil gave her elder a long-suffering look and plead, pinning her ears back for emphasis.

“One condition,” Magorian said.

Lazar bowed, “Whatever you wish.”

Magorian smirked. “Take the other colts and fillies and teach them as well. It is about time they learned how to bring food to our fires.”

Lazar grinned with his charming smile that Hermione swore would have beaten the pants off of anything Gilderoy Lockhart could have dished out. “It shall be done.”

There was a swirl of excitement in the centaur camp as all the young colts and fillies gathered together.

Viktor went down onto all fours to allow Hermione to ride him down to the lake they had scouted out previously.

The shore was bustling with activity as they group broke out in teams. Valko was teaching a group of them how to make movable fishing platforms that he customised to work with those with four legs instead of two. After a few dunkings of Viktor to test the buoyancy, the group set to work making them… but not until after Viktor leapt out of the water in simurgh form, latching onto Valko’s collar, and dragged him under water for dunking him so many times.

Giggling and chortling centaur youth set to work making platforms to stand on as one water-logged simurgh padded out of the lake water and shook himself off.

Petya taught them how to make their own fishing poles out of the lake reeds. He pointed out the thing and flexible reeds that made the best fishing poles, warning them to stay away from the tempting looking more substantial reeds that would not yield the way fishing required. He taught them how to make an almost invisible line woven out of spider silk, and how to reinforce the end of the line to guard against the teeth of a pike, whose notorious line breaking ability was renown to any who had ever fished the lochs of Scotland.

Lazar taught them how to find the best spots in the lake to cast, pointing out where fish liked to hide in the reeds and vegetation. He warned them where not to cast, lest they lose their bait to logs and trees.

Hermione sat on the shore without a pole, not wishing to aggravate her wounds, but she crafted a pile of lifelike looking fish for bait. Viktor charmed each one to move like a real fish would do, and Aleksander attached the hooks to each one.

There was an excessive amount of giggling as each young centaur tried to attach their wriggling bait “fish” to their lines, as some of the fish flopped around on the shore as if to get back into the water and swim away like their real life inspirations.

Once all the bait fish were hooked properly, Aleksander set up a camp and fire, tending the logs to make the best cooking coals while the centaurs tried their hand at casting into the water from the shore and from their homemade fishing platforms.

Trefoil, ever the instigator, managed to drag Hermione out onto one of the floating platforms. With fishing pole and basket in hand, Trefoil tucked herself around Hermione, settled on the platform, and cast into the water. Hermione, feeling a bit bushwhacked, pulled out her reading book and leaned up against Trefoils warm side as the young centaur fished away.

Puddles managed to snag himself a gargantuan pike that practically tugged him and his platform to the middle of the lake before the young centaur managed to pull the trashing fish up and into the collection basket. The young colt stared forlornly back to shore from the middle of the lake, unsure how to get back to the camp from where he was.

Viktor, laughing heartily, grabbed a rope and took to the air, flying out to the middle of the lake and casting the rope down.

Puddles grabbed the rope and Viktor made enormous flaps of his wings and took off towards shore, pulling the excited colt and his hard-won spoils to the shore.

When Viktor landed on the shore and Puddles dragged his catch to Aleksander to prepare, more young centaurs surrounded Viktor, touching his back, stroking his fur, and begging shamelessly for the same gift their herd mate had been given—a thrilling ride across the lake like none of them had ever seen before that day.

Hermione laughed as one by one, Viktor flew by, pulling a handful of giggling centaur youths across the lake. Trefoil seemed irritated that they kept putting ripples in her fishing water, but Hermione patted her reassuringly as she pointed to the full fishing basket, reassuring her that what they had would be fine, even if she couldn’t catch any more.

By the time afternoon was starting to set into evening, the adult centaurs were walking down from the camp to assess the results of the fishing expedition. Baskets and baskets of various fish from the larger pike, a random eel or two, hundreds of the smaller perch, rudds, a few tenches, a strangely large quantity of bream. And just as they were all coming back in towards the shore, Trefoil snagged herself a pike that practically pulled their entire platform to the shore for them before they managed to pull it up out of the water.

Trefoil was beaming with pride as she dragged the pike, bait, line, pole, and all further onto shore as Hermione dragged her filled basket up with her. Chara greeted her filly with pride, hugging and petting her daughter on the head as Trefoil ran circles around her dam in her excitement.

“I feel I should thank you,” Bane mused as he stood still for Lazar to heave twin baskets over Bane’s back to carry some of the spoils back to the camp.

“Whatever for?” Lazar asked as he tightened the girth around Bane’s body.

“Herd has not been so relaxed to have foals away since Giant attacked Chara,” he said. “Is good… for morale.”

Lazar nodded with understanding. “Was an honour to teach young ones the lake.”

Aleksander laughed from the shore. He had lashed the gargantuan cooked pike between the backs of two of the colts, and now they pair was attempting to walk back up the trail in tandem without bumping into things. Bane let out a barking laugh and put himself into a canter back up the hill towards the camp ahead of them.

Hermione helped strap Trefoil’s spoils onto her mother’s back as well as the filly’s. She insisted on being able to carry her pike back to camp on her own back, and her mother gave Hermione an amused nod of approval. All strapped securely, Trefoil trotted up the hill towards the camp with her dam following behind.

The rest of the young centaurs cantered up the hill, carrying both equipment and baskets of fish, whickering and neighing with their excitement.

As the birds took to the air to head back towards the camp, Hermione wrapped her arms around the soft fur of her simurgh suitor, pressing her head into his fur to take in his scent and comfort. Viktor rumbled as he began to walk towards the camp himself, content to be carrying his witch wherever it was she wished to go.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco sat on the limb of the high oak tree he had chosen to perch in. He had his arm curved around his broom as he scowled down below him with the sneering expression he normally saved for his pure-blood supremacy mask.

Raw anger flashed in his eyes. Below him as the giant that had almost crushed his sister to death… twice. Twice the giant had been guilty of something he could not forgive or forget, and twice the giant had been allowed to escape due to the priorities shifting to helping the wounded over justice over the one doing the wounding.

For days he had been watching Hagrid sneak into the forest and try to “tame” and “educate” his half-brother, and each time he would leave the area beaten and bloody. Draco had privately enjoyed every pain Hagrid was going through, believing in his heart that Hagrid deserved everything the giant dished out to his brother. However, the giants actions against Hermione and their allies had to be rectified.

Draco had, admittedly, been Hermione’s personal Inland Taipan choker for the last few days after her incident in the forest and the days leading up until the Easter Break, refusing to leave her neck, even when she went to bed, though he did at least yield in his stubbornness when his sister needed to take a shower or use the restroom. He found he didn’t mind being drooled on as she slept as long as he knew she was safe. He couldn’t really fault the Sky Brothers for wanting to stay by her side knowing that he did exactly the same thing in his own way.

But for now, Draco had taken it upon himself to watch the giant monstrosity that Hagrid had dragged into the Dark Forest like all the other experiments of various degrees of success. After all, there was an entire colony of acromantulas in the Dark Forest because of Hagrid. There was a rampaging three-headed dog named Fluffy that Hagrid had “released to freedom”… in the Dark Forest. The thestrals lived in the Dark Forest. The hippogriff paddocks were… in the Dark Forest. There were wolves in the woods, he knew, as well as confirmed sightings of blood-sucking bugbears, bowtruckles, and even a surviving blast-ended skrewt that had somehow survived the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Not to mention there were also trolls that lived in the woods, even though most of those were mostly driven from any of the centaur’s territories due to their regular and merciless patrols. The oddest thing of all was the occasional sighting of a strangely battered blue Ford Anglia car, that seemed to have “gone wild” in the woods. Draco was pretty sure the car wasn’t Hagrid’s fault after the Prophet’s stories about the Weasley family illegally enchanting their family car to fly, but he was willing to group it all together in damnation against Hagrid anyway.

It has been an hour and it seemed that Grawp had finally settled on the ground to sleep, which was probably the only safe state Grawp had, unless you were unfortunately to be rolled over on.

Draco ran his hand through his hair as an irritated sneer crossed his face. He had to return to the school before he was missed thanks to his being a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Maybe there would be some way to lure Umbridge into the woods to meet “harmless” Grawp. Wouldn’t that be… satisfying.

Draco threw his leg over his broom and took to the air, heading back towards Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione looked up from the counter as she finished sorting the reagent jars at the store. Petya was hanging half off a ladder as he adjusted the sign for the store. They had finally decided on a permanent name for the store instead of changing it each month, finally agreeing upon “The Aerie.”

Viktor eyed Petya’s hanging of the ladder with wry amusement. “You have wand, brother. Why are you hanging off ladder like monkey?”

Petya made random monkey sounds as he set the name sign in place, causing Viktor to facepalm quite loudly.

There was a loud clang of a frying pan hitting someone. “Get out of my kitchen, waterbird!” Aleksander’s voice yelled from the back. “I tell you when food is ready.”

Lazar slunk out of the back room with a grin on his face, half of a piece of bacon dangling from his mouth.

Hermione snickered. Some people would do anything for a chocolate frog, but Lazar would do just about anything for a fresh piece of bacon right out of the frying pan, preferably stolen right out from under Aleksander’s watchful eye.

“Out! BANDIT!” Aleksander yelled.

Valko slunk out a moment later, with a muffin clenched between his teeth, and Hermione busted up laughing at her brothers’ combined antics.

Whatever it was that Aleksander was cooking, it smelled divine, and Hermione sympathised with her brother’s desire to raid the kitchen before Aleksander was done. He was a stunning cook, about as far into expert as Petya was the opposite direction when it came to food preparation. The only exception was smoking.

Petya could smoke a fish, shank, or a hide like nobody’s business. His ability to tan a hide in forty-two shades of sienna was practically famous, and he managed to rustle up business from that alone in both the Wizarding and the Muggle world. His smoked meats lured quite a bit of business to the store for that alone.

Valko was the master of spice mixtures. He could mix different types of salt and spices that were perfect from everything from soup, to jerking meat, roasts, wild game, domestic fare, and everything in between. Even Molly Weasley had come to the store and purchased a few packages of Valko’s “Seasoning for a Rainy Day,” which she claimed did heavenly things to a beef roast.

Lazar, on the other hand, was the man you went to see when you wanted to see a man about wild-harvested wine. Have a hankering for dandelion wine or perhaps a nice black cherry wine? Lazar was your man. Whether you wanted persimmon or serviceberry, gooseberry or cloudberry wine, Lazar would have it for you. He even made a few custom cordials that ended up being so popular that the Three Broomsticks and the Hog’s Head had standing stock orders for them, which Lazar found utterly amusing since a person would pay twice as much for a “sip” of cordial at the inns when they could just buy the bottle at the store for cheaper.

The Aerie, however, more than made enough money off the standing orders for each pub to pay whatever miscellaneous bills they had twenty times over, so no one was complaining. Lazar even made an non-alcoholic honey mead that “tasted like the babbling water of a pure mountain stream on a cloudless day when a honeycomb slapped you upside the head.” Hermione wasn’t sure if that was a good description or not, but kids really liked it, so Honeydukes had a contract for a standing order of it. The adult version of the honey mead was, not so surprisingly, “bubbly like the rarest spring water tasted after stealing honey from a hive and being chased by angry African honey bees for the last twenty miles.”

Hermione was amazed all of that fit on the label, but just when you thought you knew magic, Lazar would prove that you really could fit all of that slogan onto a small piece of paper.

Between Aleksander’s succulent foods and preserves, Lazar’s strange and in demand drinks, Valko’s seasonings for all occasions, and Petya’s smoked goods, it seemed like everything was set for the Aerie, but then the store added in Viktor’s and Hermione’s finely crafted animal creations that were charmed to be stunningly lifelike and Severus’ range of custom potions and elixirs that were “startlingly effective” and “did exactly what they said they did.”

Severus rolled his eyes when Petya told the story of one of the customers singing the praises of the potion “that actually got rid of her chizpurfle infestation.”

“Obviously it worked,” Severus sneered as he stirred a batch of something with a strange green glow to it. “I would not label something ‘chizpurfle repellent’ if it was a cure for warts.”

Hermione chuckled at her father’s annoyance at the majority of “people in general.” It was her job to insure that every recipe they had created at the store was protected and every potion recipe was patented. In an almost Weasleyesque gesture, Severus and Hermione had charmed every potion they made for the store completely impossible to break down into individual components by spell or mechanical means. Said potion would turn into permanent black ink that would explode in said caster’s face, the counter-spell for which was just as well guarded as the rest of their concoctions.

Whenever someone came into the store and looked like they had a jar of ink explode on their face, the Sky Brothers would point them towards the finely labelled jar of “Ink Remover - For Those Strangely Permanent Stains - 5G.” The regular ink remover was only a few sickles, but for whatever reason, the potion induced ink spots would only go away when using the more expensive ink remover. Oddly enough, those that ended up purchasing the Ink Remover for the Strangely Permanent Stains never complained about the price. They would silently pay for the remover and slink out the store, covering their faces. Funny that.

Hermione dusted off the main counter just as an owl came fluttering in from somewhere and dropped off a parcel. She eyed the parcel curiously, reaching for a frog from the terrarium they kept for the owls. The guest owls seemed to really appreciate the fresh treats over the standard owl nuts, so they kept a fresh supply to reward them. This became especially important as their business seemed to gain popularity and even more odd ball, odd weight, and odd shaped parcels began to show up by owl post.

The owl hooted thanks and took off, flying out the open door.

Hermione eyed the parcel suspiciously. There was no return address on the wrapping and only her name was written on the front in block print. It wasn’t exactly the most friendly looking parcel. She took out her wand and cast it over the parcel, checking for hexes, poisons, or whatever horrible thing could possible come in a parcel. Nothing glowed or spontaneously burst into flames, so she put her wand away and tugged on the twine and opened it.

Inside was a large coloured Easter Egg with a latch. When she unlatched it, hundreds of toffees, caramels, and chocolates fell out in a candy cascade.

“Who sent you Easter Egg?” Viktor asked, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the rather large trove of candy.

“Uhh…” Hermione boggled. “It’s normal for Mrs. Weasley to send these to her children, but… the last time she sent me Easter Eggs, she sent me eggs the size of a quail because she thought I was playing with Harry’s and your affections.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up into his hair, which was fairly impressive since his hair was cut very short. “Vhat?”

“She thought I was trying to seduce you,” Hermione said with an awkward smile.

Viktor’s face ran through about five or six emotions before he settled on flabbergasted. “If anything, I was trying very hard to seduce you, not other way around.”

Hermione coughed a laugh and touched Viktor’s cheek with her palm. “You were trying to seduce me?”

Viktor shrugged. “Court… seduce… convince you to spend time with me. Stay vith me forever. You know standard thing for wizard who adores beautiful vitch.”

Hermione choked on air and made a strange face at Viktor.

Viktor turned her chin to the side to face him and deftly planted a kiss upon her lips. He looked into her eyes as he pulled away. “Did it work?”

“W…wh…whaa?” Hermione managed to articulate.

“Did I convince you. Stay vith me forever?” Viktor said completely deadpan, as though he were asking about the weather in Guam. He ran his thumb against her cheek every so gently.

“Ah…er…..” Hermione tried to stop tripping over her tongue. “I… think… so?” She just stared at him dumbly and speechless.

Viktor looked at her as a great smile spread across his face. “Mmm… good. Would hate to have to get in duel with someone. Hiding bodies always pain.”

Hermione sputtered just before Viktor captured her mouth again, ever so gently placing his hand at the back of her neck and stroking the line of her hair with his fingers. Hermione folded in on herself and into his embrace as he stealthily pulled her close.

“Ahem,” Severus’ amused voice broke the moment and Hermione flung herself away from Viktor with a large blush growing on her face, feeling herself at the moment, like a newly teenage girl caught by her parents being kissed by her equally newly teenage boyfriend. “I’d know your intentions with my daughter.”

Viktor, smooth as silk, dropped into a formal bow. “Intend to be at her side until skies burn and maybe a little after if show is excellent.”

Severus eyed Viktor as one eyebrow lifted into his hair. He stood silently and still. The corner of his lip quirked upward at last. “Very well, you may continue,” Severus said, walking back into his laboratory with a swish of his robes.

Viktor stood up again, giving Hermione a Cheshire cat grin.

Hermione tilted her head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“Dinner ready!” Aleksander yelled from the back.

Petya and Valko jumped out from behind one of the nearby shelves and tore off into the kitchen, practically bowling Viktor and Hermione over.

Hermione, realising that they’d been there the entire time Viktor had been talking to Severus, began a new cycle of blushing. Severus walked out of his laboratory as if nothing had occurred, snagging his stupified, blushing daughter by the sleeve and dragging her into the dining room as Viktor grinned from ear to ear.

 


	49. All Out of Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Personal hotsprings? Yes, please!  
> Hermione has escorts to visit Hagrid.

**Chapter 49: All Out of Forgiveness**

Hermione yawned herself awake, opening one sleepy eye. She was cuddling Aleksander in her front legs, using the firebird as her personal pillow, and the evidence of her drool over her brother’s feathers was only one indicator of many that Hermione had smothered him right proper to that end.

Aleksander made an “rrrrrk”ing sort of sound in his throat, his flaming feathers wisped around, tickling her chin. Hermione leaned back against Viktor’s body, but continued to cuddle her brother’s rounded bird body, her beak preened his feathers lazily.

Lazar’s icy bird head popped up from the pile up, beak parted in an extended yawn. He stretched his neck out and nailed Valko on the rump, causing the brown earthy-toned bird to jump, eyes wide as he looked around the room. Valko stretched out his left leg, pulled it back like a pinball plunger, and kicked out suddenly, sending a misty bird ball tumbling out of the pile with an undignified squawk.

Aleksander, however, was still pinned between Hermione’s forelegs, and she yawned beakily with an eagle squeak, snuggled into Viktor’s warmth with habitual ease.

Three sets of mischievous bird eyes settled on the fiery bird ball that was Aleksander, and three sets of beaks nailed him on the rump.

Aleksander woke with a squawk, startling himself out of Hermione’s embrace, and settled a few feet over, preening his offended posterior with his beak.

Aleksander yawned and flapped his wings, taking off into the air and flying towards one of the bathrooms.

The other three remaining birds seemed to chuckle amongst themselves, pausing in their bird laughter to preen each other dutifully.

Hermione’s foreleg shot out and pinned all three of them down, and she yawned beakily over them, then mercilessly preened them all at once, floofing their feathers in all sorts of oddball directions before releasing them with a chirp.

Three sets of bird eyes gazed back at their sleepy gryphon sister. Dark fathomless eyes peered at the three remaining bird brothers as Severus yawned, hooting softly.

Hermione stretched lazily, slowly getting up. Her tail swished back and forth slightly as she turned her head to preen the owl perched on Viktor’s withers. The dark owl half closed his eyes tolerantly as she fussed over him before padding off to one of the free bathrooms with a snake-shaped hitchhiker coiled around her neck.

The sounds of faucets being turned and water running came shortly after, the clicking of talons across the tile after that, and a loud sploosh came shortly after that.

The Sky Brothers shrugged their wings and bird walked towards the bathroom together.

The actual main bathroom, not to be confused with the smaller ones they had built, Hermione had said that it looked much like an indoor pond scape or hot-springs than a bathroom. The purpose of the faucets was more to add custom salts and bubbles to the water. There was an area to the side that was set aside for actually washing, but the larger area was for soaking.

They had customised the area for washing to accommodate paws and claws, beaks and muzzles, as well as hands, and it was quite customary for them to share the baths with each other in their animagus form rather than their human ones, but on the rare occasion they shared it as humans. Their animagus forms were, odd as it may have seemed to those that had never experienced it, more natural, so it was just as commonplace to find a waterlogged gryphon sprawled in the warm water with an inland taipan curled up on one of the heated rocks in the “pond” while one lurking simurgh sat covered in soapy bubbles so only his head stuck out.

There were shallow pools for the birds, and it was even known to find Severus sitting up to his breast feathers in warm water and suds, eyes half closed as he enjoyed the warm vapours and water of the bath area.

Lazar, Valko, and Petya fluttered over to the washing pools and fluttered in them, splashing water over themselves in bird style before damply fluttering over to the steaming pools made for soaking, depositing themselves squarely into the welcoming warm water. It wasn’t long before they resembled something akin to a fluffy sea urchin rather than birds, but none of them seemed to mind.

Aleksander shambled in with a towel around his waist and one wrapped around his head. He sleepily shambled directly into the soaking pool, threw himself back against one of the underwater shelves, and submerged himself up to the nose.

“So,” he said after a soak. “Thinking maybe we make annoyingly cute Easter eggs for holiday. After seeing one sestrá got in mail. Maybe we fill with pastries, sample drinks, tiny innocuous potions that turn hair different colours.”

Petya hopped into the water and suds and emerged as a human. “Maybe sestrá and Viktor make cute adorable animated animals to put in eggs.”

“So dhey can jump out and eat your face?” Aleksander asked.

“No, brother,” Petya said. “Dat only back home.”

“Oh,” Aleksander said sadly. “Pity.”

Petya slapped the water towards his brother.

Hermione yawned rather loudly that ended in a soft eagle squeak. She rose out of the water and shook from beak to tail tip, causing her brothers to dive under the water and ruffle their feathers respectively. Draco slipped off his heated rock and slithered into her neck feathers, reestablishing himself as her resident neck serpent.

She curled her her tail in a minor loop over her back, giving a soft chuckle as she padded out of the bath.

Aleksander turned to Petya. “Wonder if she put cold paw on Viktor’s back this morning?”

A canine yip came from the adjoining room, followed by irritated hooting.

Petya grinned as he submerged back into the hot steaming water. “Dat answer dat, brother,” he chortled.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hagrid was pretty sure he was going to die the moment the dark cloaked figures came over the hill towards him. The sun was starting to come down just over the hill, and the silhouettes that were approaching him looked about a hundred degrees into unfriendly and fifty extra degrees into lethal. He had a feeling he was going to be sacked soon by Umbridge, and he was even ready for it, but what was coming towards him now looked like a squad of Death Eaters.

Hagrid reached for his umbrella with trepidation. He had not planned on a fight to the death under the cover of darkness, and every ache and pain from his attempts to civilise his brother started to remind him exactly how horrible his attempts were coming along. Where the hell was that damn dog? Useless.

The silhouettes were coming down the pathway like spectres, and much like spectres, the descent was eerily silent. Hagrid wondered how many of them would try stunning spells and curses on him. He was highly resistant to those, at least, thanks to his giant heritage.

It was misting instead of raining, the particles of precipitation stuck to his beard and hair, making it seem even more inhospitable. It was a horrible night to be facing Death Eaters… not that there was really a “good” night to face Death Eaters…

As the group of them came into a dangerous range, Hagrid clasped his umbrella close to him. “’Ey now. What you be ‘anting on this horrible night? I don’ be ‘anting trouble.”

Each one of the figures were hooded and cloaked. One was in a dark red, one in a dark blue, one in a dark brown that was so dark it was almost black, one in a silvery grey, and then there were two of them draped entirely in black.

One of the figures in black was carrying a crate of something, but it was the other, shorter figure in black that pulled back their hood, exposing a very familiar set of bushy brown hair.

“’Ermione?” Hagrid exclaimed. He loosened his grip on his umbrella. “What are yeh doin’ ‘ere at this hour?”

“You did not pick up your Murtlap Essense you requested from my Master,” Hermione said without emotion, her face was absent of the warmth the young woman normally showed to all her friends. Her eyes, even in the gloom, were dark and piercing. She extended her hand towards the crate. “It was understood that you required the essence immediately. Was my Master mistaken?”

“Well no, er, uh,” Hagrid stumbled over his words. “You can put the crate in ‘ere.”

The taller figure in black walked past Hagrid and hoisted the crate into his table and returned to Hermione’s side. The entourage that was escorting her were silent, keeping their hoods over their faces in the misting rain

“Er,” Hagrid said awkwardly. “Thank Professor Snape for me… if you would… please.”

Hermione’s eyes flicked up to meet his, but her expression did not change. “I will do so. Is there anything else you require?”

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. Never had Hermione been so cold to him before. She had always been warm and emotional. “’Ermione…” he said. “Is there something wrong?”

Hermione stared up at Hagrid without a change in expression. “There is a pure-blood supremacist in power at Hogwarts that wants all half-bloods and mud-bloods expelled out of principle and the previous Headmaster has been banished for conspiracy and sedition. Whatever could possibly be wrong?”

Hagrid winced at her tone. “Can you not talk to me, ‘ermione? Is it because of these—”

Hermione tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “These are my bodyguards, Hagrid. My Master believes I require extra…tending… due to my most recent proclivity to being almost crushed to death.”

Hagrid looked down at his boots. “Oh…er… right. Look, ‘ermione. I’m really sorry about that…”

Hermione raised her hand to stop his apology. “Do not say what you do not mean, Hagrid,” she replied coldly. It’s been almost two weeks since your half-brother tried to squeeze the life out of me, and I have not had one whisper of concern come from you the entire time.

“And maybe I do not rate such concern with your preoccupations as of late and that is fine, but that could have been Harry being crushed out there, Hagrid, and I guarantee you that Harry does not know how to channel crush resistant spells while getting the air squeezed out of him at the same time. It was only by the help of the centaur and the training of my Master that allowed me to survive long enough for my Master to find me and bind my wounds.”

Hermione glared up at him. “And while I was getting my life squeezed out of me, my friend Harry Potter tried to cast a spell to save me. Only that spell didn’t hit the right target, because my Professor who is supposed to look out for the lives of his students and the person who I thought was my friend, cared more for his half-brother he barely knew over someone who has been nothing but supportive of you for the last five years.

“So, no, Hagrid,” Hermione said in a tone that mirrored her father’s scorn. “Do not apologise to me. Because if you are going to apologise, I want you to mean it.”

Hermione pulled her hood up over her head. “Goodnight, Professor,” she said with a tone that was far more official that Hagrid had ever heard her address him. She spun on her heels and glided up the hill path back to Hogwarts, her entourage following her without a word.

Hagrid walked glumly back into his hut and sat down in one of his chairs, cradling his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! Where did all that animosity come from?! *eyedarts* If Hermione had pulled that with Ron back in the last year, the boy would have probably shat himself and would still be hiding under the rock he buried himself under after she did it. I realise the story is technically coming out of my head, but that entire argument kinda took me by surprise!  
> I’m still debating on what I’m going to do about Grawp within the confines of my story, and I’m having some apparent mental debate on how I’m going to resolve Hermione’s realisation that her half-giant “friend” basically left her to die rather than save her from his half-brother. What do you guys think? Should Hagrid have a good groveling with an apology scene? Or maybe Harry will have to work his own relationship magic to get Hermione to forgive Hagrid? Maybe both. Maybe Harry should slap Hagrid upside the face and get him to go grovel! Lol. I’m interested to know what you guys think. Maybe Grawp can redeem himself by squishing the right overly pink person… so many choices.  
> And now… back to my case studies homework. *whimper*


	50. Giant Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack deals with the giant problem.

_“There is no mercy in you. You cut off the heads of men and women and these you wear as a garland around your neck.” - Grimm_

**Chapter 50: Giant Problems**

Hermione slumped at Severus’ feet, laying her head over his dragon hide boots with a plaintive chirp.

Severus finished scrawling over the pile of parchments he was grading and stood up from his desk. With a soft grunt, he sat down on the floor cushion and patted it in invitation.

Hermione practically oozed over to him, sliding her head into his lap and rolling half over, exposing her belly to his hand.

Snape stretched out on the cushion, wrapping his arm around his daughter’s barrel shaped body, and weaving his arm under her wing to stroke her belly fur. He pressed his face into her neck feathers and closed his eyes, feeling her mind settle within his with her familiar warmth.

Perhaps, if anyone who wasn’t of their family unit had come in at that moment, they would have wondered how a gryphon and wizard came to be together, sprawled out on the cushion in front of the fire in some odd mutation of man and his faithful hunting hound, but Hermione was brooding and cared not for appearances. A brooding Hermione wanted nothing more than her father’s nonjudgmental embrace, and that is what he gave her— his touch, his scent, and his silent presence.

Hermione rolled more fully into Severus, shoving her back and her wings into his chest as she went limp against him. He felt her thoughts finally settle down into a dull roar, organise, and retreat behind her shields as her breathing evened out and she allowed herself to relax into sleep. Her large barrel-like chest rose and fell heavily before her breaths finally evened out.

Her confrontation with Hagrid had not come without its own set of scars, even though they had not gotten into a physical altercation. Betrayal was never easily forgiven nor forgotten, and that truth Severus knew exceedingly well. In some ways, her bond with Severus and her adopted family exacerbated her inability to forgive. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what people who truly cared for her would do for her, and it made it exceedingly hard to tolerate the lack.

While Hagrid sat in his hut holding his head and wandering off in the Dark Forest to get the crap beaten out of himself, Hermione’s Wizarding family were ready to take the battle to the source and set the giant on fire while making sure that she never lacked for the company and comfort of one or all of them in her time of need. Even Trefoil, whose command of verbal English was nigh but nonexistent, knew what Hermione needed. And one miniature hippogriff, who some would argue wasn’t even alive, had more consideration and heart when it came to Hermione’s well-being.

So perhaps, at least in Severus’ own mind, Hermione’s pain had less to do with the actual betrayal by Hagrid but the revelation that she had made an unwise choice in friends, thus betraying and sabotaging herself. Whether the logic was sound or not, he realised, did not matter. What mattered was that his daughter was suffering from her choices and either real or imagined failures, and if anyone was an expert in self-flagellation, it was Severus Snape.

Like father, like daughter.

Severus winced, drawing his hand across Hermione’s soft belly fur and feathers in a reassuring motion. She was his reason to believe that there was redemption for his past sins. She had forgiven him with the sort of grace she could not give herself… and he—he would forgive her the same.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Petya landed on the hillside with a flurry of wing-beats, taking his human form with a shrug of his silver blue robe. “Found it,” he said with a tilt of his head, with an almost imperceptible royal nod of his head. He grasped the intricately carved wooden staff in his hands and took a stone out from his robe. He stared at it, clutching it in his hand as though it would animate and start singing. The stone glowed perceptibly, and he placed it on the end of his staff. “In case we need a quick exit,” he said simply.

Lazar landed in the midst of the gathering with multiple flaps of his icy wings. “Found the camp,” he said, pulling his cloak about him. “Ready when you are.”

Viktor was staring down into the Dark Forest with a dark expression, his black eyes flicked to Lazar only briefly before focusing on something hidden amongst the trees.

Draco landed, hopping off his broom with a practised grace. “I have the offerings,” he said, his face still bearing the lofty arrogant mask of the Malfoy family.

Viktor nodded to him silently.

“And I the food,” said Aleksander as he leapt off of Hermione’s back and on the hillside. Hermione retook her human form as she landed, her brown eyes were dark and unreadable.

Viktor’s expression was grim. He made a gesture with his hand and his brothers went into formation behind him automatically. This was Viktor the soldier and the leader, and his word was law. Hermione crouched down nearby, and Draco did the same next to her.

Viktor held out his hand. 3.2.1.

They were off—tearing down the hill at high tilt, wands at the ready as they ran.

The joined hands together as they rushed forward onto the unsuspecting giant as he lay sleeping in the tree litter and Viktor slammed his hand down on Grawp’s back and Lazar made a sweeping gesture with his arm, clenching his fist as he gathered his power to him.

CRACK.

They were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione, Draco, and the Sky-brothers tumbled out of the way the moment the apparate ended, rolling out of the way as though an attack was imminent. They left Grawp in a pile as they reformed ranks, wands at the ready, and bodies poised for anything.

“Kidnappers,” a booming voice resonated from above them. “Wizarding cowards. You dare show your face after stealing one of our number?”

The lot of them bowed submissively in deference. Viktor looked up, tilting his head up with slightly more pride. “Begging your indulgence, great Gurg,” he said smoothly. “We do not steal. We return.”

It was at this point that Grawp woke up groggily, blearily standing up to his full height as he rubbed his eyes. He looked around himself with shock, an expression of happiness crossed his distorted features. He yelled out something that none of them could recognise. Perhaps he did know a language… just not English.

The towering giant above them, which must have reached a scary height of twenty five feet or more, pulled back from his leering position, his face twisted in re-evaluation as Grawp ran towards the other giants.

The other giants, slammed their fists down on his back, practically drilling him into the ground with their powerful strokes, but Grawp laughed happily, the first expression of happiness any of them had seen on him. He wiped the dirt off himself and chattered loudly to the giants, who rumbled down upon him with unknown words and more back pounding. Grawp was thrown to the ground a few more times, but each time he got up, brushed himself off, and smiled.

“Great Gurg,” Viktor projected loudly. “We bring gifts and beg your forgiveness that your… brother was taken from you in error. This was not our intent, and we bring him back to you that he may rejoin his people in peace.”

The massive giant sneered at them. “What small gifts would such tiny creatures have that would interest me?”

Viktor nodded to Aleksander and Draco.

Aleksander pulled out a pile of shrunken foods and laid them at the giant’s feet. He waved his wand over it, and the tiny foods became enormous. Countless roasts, prepared entrees, and even a carcass of a large whale now sat before them.

Draco pulled out something shiny from his robe and cast it at his feet, waving his wand. The glittering metal enlarged to show a wooden giant figurine, covered head to toe in glittering armour.

The massive giant touched the armour with his fingers that were the size of tree trunks and then rubbed his fingers under his chin before looking down at he tiny group of human wizards and witch. He smiled cruelly at them with his black as soot teeth. Around his neck were strung countless bones, and some of them looked disturbingly human.

“I Gurg, Golgomath,” he said deeply. “I kill last Gurg who invited thief into our midst under cover of peace. Tell me, puny wizards. Why should I parlay with the likes of you?”

It was then that something surprising happened. Grawp, who when faced with interaction with humans and centaurs seemed to fail in a hundred more ways than succeed, stood up straight and said something to the Gurg, staring up at the towering giant that made Grawp look tiny.

Golgomath’s eyes narrowed, and he stared down at Viktor incredulously. “Grawp tells me you blooded him in combat defending your territory. Is this true?”

Viktor set his jaw, unsure if the truth was the correct answer. “Yes, Gurg Golgomath. It is true.”

Golgomath stared down at him. “And yet you bring him back to his people without killing him, which would have been your right?”

“Killing was not our intent,” Viktor replied.

“Intent or no… matters not,” Golgomath said with a cruel smile, showing his blackened teeth. The bones around his neck rattled. “Threat and the ability to carry through only thing worthy of respect. Power to crush.”

Viktor stayed in a half bow, waiting for Golgomath to ponder his own course of actions.

“Where is the one who stole from us? Golgomath rumbled. “Where is the one who dragged Grawp away in ropes in the dark? Did he send you?”

“No, Great Gurg,” Viktor said, eyes averted. “He does not know.”

“Yet…” Golgomath said. “You knew to bring him here.” He leered at them, his fist tightening visibly.

“You are giants,” Viktor said calmly. “Not hard to find.”

Golgomath stared at the “tiny” wizard for a long moment, his hand at his side relaxed and he belted out a chain of laughter to the skies. “Very well, tiny wizards. Sit. And parlay with me. I will hear your requests.”

The small group of wizards and one witch straightened their posture and sat beside the carcass of the large whale as Golgomath tore off a fin and began to eat it raw off the carcass.

And so the “talking” began in earnest.

It was far into the night before the parlay ended, and by the time it did, the entire whale carcass and the food they had brought had been devoured completely by none other than Golgomath. He, unlike the the centaurs, did not share. It was, he stated with a thundering belch, his right as Gurg.

He donned the armour that Draco had brought with satisfaction, and having beaten the everliving daylights out of two of his fellows, pronounced the gift worthy of him as his fellow giants staggered and limped off into the night.

“Tradition demands that we fight, and black robed wizards offered much blood to that effect,” Golgomath said. “Gut tells me to support this Dark Lord, and bring blood to our fists to show our strength.”

Viktor exchanged glaces with his group with a grim face.

“However,” Golgomath said, using an uprooted sapling to pick his teeth. “Our number is smaller than it once was. Forced to stay in such cramped areas makes us weak in the head, and we fight amongst ourselves as much as we would fight our enemies while we are forced to stay here until the summer prey returns. We cannot… afford more losses.

“Dark Lord brings us only promises of blood,” he continued. “And promises of blood do not feed our stomaches. Go back to your territory, tiny wizards. Golgomath’s people stay out of your puny wars. Bring us more of this food you brought this night by each moon’s full cycle until summer allows us to move again, and our pact will be sealed.”

“It shall be done, Great Gurg Golgomath,” Viktor said smoothly as they all stood up.

“Grawp,” Golgomath boomed. “Say goodbye to your saviours.”

Grawp, who somehow managed to look all sixteen feet of shy and unassuming standing next to Golgomath, put his hands together as a child might behind a parent. “Goo-bye, Hermy, Veektor,” Grawp said awkwardly. “Bye-bye berdies.”

Hermione and Viktor managed to look appropriately gob-smacked before they shook off their shock and bowed to Golgomath and the other giants. “We will return before the moon’s full cycle as agreed.”

Golgomath stretched lazily from his seat at the bottom of the mountain and waved them away. His desire for parlay completed.

Lazar held out his hand and they all placed theirs on top of it. He raised his hand, fingers outstretched over their joined hands and made a fist, calling his magic in towards the centre.

CRACK!

They were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione planted her feet on the ground and growled as she tugged on the deer leg between herself and Viktor. Viktor growled playfully, shaking his head back and forth, yanking on the partially eaten leg.

Vicious sounding growling and snarling ensued, but at the end of it, Viktor lay victoriously draped over Hermione’s back, panting as she tore into the deer leg, sharing pieces of it as she ripped the precious bits from the bone with her beak.

As all the meat disappeared off the haunch, Hermione cracked into the bone with her beak, exposing the precious marrow within, and the pair of them gnawed hungrily on the well earned prize, filling the clearing with somewhat disturbing cracking and chewing noises.

When all trace of the precious marrow was licked and gnawed out of the bones, Viktor proceeded to groom her thoroughly, slurping her feathers clean and in line and putting her fur in order.

Hermione batted at his face playfully, preening his neck scruff and wings with her beak. Half of the carcass remained uneaten as the Sky Brothers had flown off to tend the store.

Viktor grasped the neck in his maw, wrapping his entire mouth around it, but there was still quite a bit dragging on the ground.

Hermione grabbed the other end of the deer carcass in her beak and gave a curious squeaking chirp as they started walking in tandem towards where they knew the centaur would be camped.

But just as they were starting to get a nice brisk pace going, Hagrid’s voice boomed out in the forest. “Grawpy! Where are ya you big oaf? Grawpy?”

Viktor’s ears pinned back against his head as his hackles raised, and Hermione’s feathers stood up on end all the way down her neck, making her look like a feather duster.

They were far from where the giant had been sleeping when they had forcibly transported him like Wizarding ninjas. Hagrid was apparently searching “everywhere.”

They fell to the ground, hunkering down low to the ground and tails flat to the ground. Viktor whined softly, and Hermione nudged him gently with her beak with a soft eagle chirp. They could escape easily without being seen, but their half eaten carcass would be left for Hagrid to find, and that may give him a whole bunch of questions they didn’t want him coming up with.

Little Vik poked his head out from her feathers and chirped, zooming off into the gloom. They heard rustling and rattling some distance off as the little hippogriff fluttered around in the foliage to distract Hagrid.

Saying a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods of magic had endowed Viktor with such a stunning ability to charm little Vik into… everything Little Vik was, she wrapped her beak around the carcass once more.

Viktor took his end and they sprung up from the ground, carrying their prize deeper and deeper into the forest towards the last known centaur camp.

By the time they reached the actual camp, having run into a few of the decoys and one of the previous camps, Bane was on guard duty as they carried the carcass in.

“You spoil us, friends,” Bane chuckled as he took the carcass from their mouths and heaved it onto his back. He carried it deeper into the camp, where an older mare looked on with approval of the remains, dragging it off to prepare it for the herd to share.

Little Vik flew back into range and dove into Hermione’s neck feathers with a triumphant chirp, causing Bane to lift his eyebrows.

Hermione curled her tail across her back in amusement.

“Stay with us, tonight, honoured allies,” Bane said softly as he watched the foals running circles around the camp. “Enjoy some of the peace you have brought to us.”

Viktor whufted a reply, baring his teeth in a lazy yawning nod. Hermione head-bumped Bane with her head in reply. She had walked forward maybe a few steps before Trefoil slammed into her from out of nowhere and clung to her neck in greeting. Only Trefoil wasn’t the only cling-on that Hermione gained as she walked into the camp. Puddles came galloping in at full tilt and slammed into her as well, hugging her from the other side, and like a floodgate having opened, centaur foals, fillies, and colts piled on top of Hermione, dragging her down into a heap on the ground, covered by whickering and chuckling centaur youth.

“One day, perhaps, your foals will mix with ours, my friends,” Magorian said with amusement as he watched the fifteen centaur pileup forming in the middle of his camp. He fixed Viktor with a steady gaze.

It was a good thing Viktor’s fur was black because he was pretty sure he was a vibrant scarlet underneath his fur.

Bane barked laughter, tilting his head back as he enjoyed the moment at Viktor’s expense.

Magorian stared at Viktor with an intense but warm smile.

Viktor lowered himself down to the ground as he engaged in some furious blushing.

Bane watched as the only thing he could see of Hermione was her long lionish tail whipping back and forth on the ground. The rest of her, wings, legs, feathers, and fur were all covered by young centaurs.

“I wonder what their foals would look like, Magorian?” Bane said conversationally, enjoying Viktor’s attempt to bury himself in the ground cover. “Perhaps they would have her body but his canine looks.”

Magorian rubbed his chin with his fingers, his forelegs stomping the dirt idly. “Canine heads and peacock tails, where eagles rise with high pitched rales. Paws and claws and talons extend, we care not what shape we call our friends.”

Bane grunted. “Aren’t you the poet, Magorian. Feeling your philosophical roots?”

“Our foals and mates are safe, the stars peaceful, and the planets whisper of Eos instead of Erebus. Is it not the right time to be a poet?” Magorian said with amusement.

Bane smirked. “Be that as it may. I am counting on the canine head upon the lion’s body, eagle fore-talons and a peacock’s tail.”

“And owl’s wings, Bane,” Magorian said, strangely sure of himself.

Bane arched a brow at his elder. “Why owl?”

“She is her father’s daughter, Bane,” Magorian said matter-of-factly. “She will always be under her father’s wings.”

Bane looked skyward, watching a meteor streak across the sky, but offered no argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Grawp was to be treated like a young male elephant in musth, which is an aggressive behaviour that is usually accompanied by a large rise of hormones like testosterone. Male elephants in musth, even ones who were previously placid, can go violent and irrationally dangerous to all around them during musth.   
> In the wild, such elephants can take things out on anything or anyone (even killing rhinos.) It is the older males of the population that prevent the younger males from going into musth, putting a damper and tempering the young male elephant from going postal on everything around them.   
> Grawp, returned to his people, now having a very dominant Gurg and full grown males to smack the sense back into him, would return back to a more rational state. No longer displaced as the only full giant around with everything to prove but no one to show him how (Let’s face it, Hagrid doesn’t know how to beat the sense into Grawp the way he needed), Grawp regained something the young wizards had no reason to know was there… reason. I found this to be an acceptable solution to Grawp’s situation as well as a logical reason why he would act the way he did.  
> And why would Hagrid take his half-brother away from the thing that was keeping him stable? Perception. He thought the giants were beating on his brother and wanted to protect him. Instead, he dragged him away from the one thing that was keeping his brother emotionally in line during the almost “angry teenager violent phase.” And maybe, now that Grawp is in a emotionally more secure place, he can learn to be more respectable (well as giants go) and eventually meet back up with Hagrid as a caring brother instead of a rampaging disaster on two legs. Just… not any time soon.   
> Anyway, that was how my thoughts came together for this. Hopefully that managed to show in the actual chapter. Heh.   
> I tell you what. Doing homework to Ivan Torrent’s “One of Us” track with Julie Elven on vocals is epic. It makes smearing butter on your waffle seem like a heroic accomplishment, and believe me, after only 4 hours of sleep, smearing that butter on my waffle was truly an epic undertaking of manual dexterity I don’t think I would have had without inspiration. Now if I could just figure out how to administer my coffee directly by 5000 units IV bolus, THEN continuous infusion of 1300 units/hr… that should get me going. Maybe. Might not be enough.  
> And now, back to homework. *le sigh.*


	51. Up to No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred and George rile up Hermione.  
> Snape contemplates his growing "family."  
> Draco indulges in a secret sin against the nose.

Chapter 51: Up to No Good

"What do you think?" chimed Fred and George together.

"I think you need a little more ‘ance' in your annoy," Hermione said with a terribly eerie innocent grin on her face.

"What 'd ya mean, Granger?" Fred said, sitting down next to her. "These are the top of the line Whiz-bangs!"

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Hermione said, "but it could be infinitely more fun for you if say… they exploded when you tried to stun them… or say… multiplied themselves by ten if you tried to vanish them."

George looked wide-eyed at Hermione. "Hermione Granger, is that you?"

Hermione gave George her best halo look.

Fred poked Hermione on the nose. "Do people really know you, Ms. Apprentice?" He looked down her nose at her with an arched brow.

"A select few, perhaps," Hermione said, pursing her lips together in a very Snape expression.

"You've been soaking up too much Snape-mojo, Hermione," Fred said with a worried expression.

Hermione moved her head like it was on a swivel and gave Fred an eyebrow lift.

"See!" Fred said, pointing his index finger at her nose. "Quick, say ‘dunderheads'!"

Hermione glared at him.

"That works too!" George said. "But say it! Come on ‘ermione!"

Hermione sighed. "Dunderheads."

"Oh, Merlin," Fred said with a shiver. "You could be his daughter or something."

Hermione choked on her tea and Fred and George beat on her back to assist her.

"Sorry, sorry, that was out of line," Fred apologised. 

"Yeah, besides," George said. "Your hair is hardly greasy enough."

"George ‘Forge' Weasley!" Hermione bellowed at him.

George laughed and covered his head with his arms as Hermione beat him with her hands and then a few times with a bundle of nearby Whiz-bangs.

"Aw, geez, now you did it," Fred moaned. "You know better than to rile up a Snape!"

Hermione shot a killing glance at Fred while she beat on his twin. 

Fred waved his hands in front of him apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I just can't…"

"We can't help it," they said together.

Hermione grunted, crossing her arms across her chest as she pulled her robe together with her hands.

Fred and George exchanged glances and tackled Hermione in a tight hug.

"What the…" Hermione gasped, being crushed, wincing as her ribs reminded her that, despite being healed, that they would appreciate a more TLC approach rather than being abused so often.

"So, can you do these enchants on the Whiz-bangs?" chimed the twins.

Hermione tilted her chin up and sniffed. "I'm not sure I should."

Fred and George gave her their best wide-eyed appeal look. George took her hands and held them as Fred looked adoringly into her face as though he was some love-sick suitor. "Please?" they chimed together. It was altogether unnerving.

Hermione grasped the bundle of fireworks in her hand and closed her eyes, weaving the power-word incantation in her mind as she bound it to the body of the fireworks. She opened her eyes and handed the bundle back to the twins.

Fred and George looked at her hopefully. "Well, will you do it?"

Hermione gave them a long-suffering look.

They just stared at each other for a few minutes, with Hermione staring into their faces like she would a cauldron.

"Wait… you did it already?" Fred figured it out at last.

Hermione arched a brow.

George tackled Hermione again, and again her lungs protested her proclivity to engage in rib crushing events. She pondered engaging her armour to avoid the problem, but then she'd have to explain why her hugs weren't soft anymore.

"Hey ‘ermione," George nudged her with his shoulder.

"We've been wondering," Fred said with a wiggling eyebrow.

"Yeah, wondering," George repeated.

Hermione's suspicious eyebrow arched into her hair again. Her left nostril twitched as she regarded them. Part of her wondered if she was so tightly bound to her Master and father that his genetic twitches were assimilated into her very make-up via some strange magical plasmid exchange that was rewriting her DNA. The fact that she was even considering magic plasmid exchange rewriting her DNA sort of proved her point on many levels. She pinched the bridge of her nose and froze, realising she had just damned herself yet again. She was utterly doomed. Maybe Fred and George were right. She might as well just change her name to bloody Snape and be done with it.

A part of her, self-admittedly, would be utterly proud to share her father's name. She was not ashamed. She wasn't even ashamed that she considered Severus her father far more than her biological father. She spent more time wandering the halls of Hogwarts and under Severus' watchful eye, wing, talons, and wards than her short jaunts back to the Muggle world since she was eleven. She did not, however, forget the Granger's by any sense of the means. She had fond memories and treasured them, but they were, much like a treasured book from her bookshelf, a section of her life that she felt distanced from… almost outgrown.

When she thought of home, she thought of Severus Snape. It was to his arms and his touch she would always return, for comfort and for guidance, forgiveness and for an ear to listen, for security and for sometimes a sorely needed harsh dose of reality… she could always count on him to provide. Tough love and tenderness all came together under the mask of the brooding and irascibly cranky Potion Master of Hogwarts. And honestly, she would not have it any other way. 

When she thought about what she had once believed of Professor Snape back in her first year, she almost burst into laughter, and there were times, she admitted, that she did. She'd set her father's robes on fire, after all, and thought him some evil monster out to kill Harry and steal the Philosopher's Stone. 

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. She had done a little growing since then, she was happy to note, and she hadn't set her father's robes on fire since then, unless you counted the time when Neville's cauldron blew up and set her and her father's robes on fire at the same time through a chain reaction of bad. She'd rather forget that afternoon, thank you very much. It had taken weeks to soak the smell of burnt out of their hair. It had taken Neville a week after that to be able to sit down properly after Hermione was through with him.

"So…" Hermione said, deciding to bite the bullet and ask, "what were you wondering?"

George and Fred looked at her cheekily. "We were wondering if you'd like to invest in a little business."

Eyebrow into hair again. It was impossible to suppress around the Weasley twins. At least she still had her eyebrows, unlike Seamus.

Hermione leaned in closer. "Whatever do you mean?"

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As Snape wandered back into the Lair, Hermione was sprawled out by the fireplace in her customary spot. In a strangely surreal moment, he realised that she was not a gryphon. Such moments seemed rare anymore, at least within the confines of the Lair. It was far more common to see Hermione laying flat on her back with her paws and talons in the air, her wings spread along the floor, and her belly exposed like a house cat that wanted her tummy rubbed. To be fair, she often wanted her tummy rubbed anyway. Gryphons were as bad as Kneazles. 

Speaking of Kneazles, Crookshanks was sprawled next to Hermione, assuming the position she normally did, belly up and paws in the air. Hermione's hand was rubbing the Kneazle's belly absently as she dozed by the fire.

The fire was always going. He had a feeling that even in mid-July when the temperature practically burst the mercury from the thermometer that there would still be a fire in the hearth. Perhaps there really was something to the "Animagi like it hot when they are human because their animal forms are used to having higher metabolisms" hypothesis Hermione had joked about. He'd always think it was because he lived in the dungeon and said dungeon was cold and damp as per the definition of "dungeon." Who was he to argue? 

Winky, dutiful to the extreme, always made sure the hearth was burning in the Lair, so a pleasant warmth welcomed those that came in. Her days as an insecure wreck of a house-elf were long past and her loyalty to both Hermione and himself was unshakable. She accepted the little tokens of fabric and buttons and other such things without protest, much happier to make things for herself since she knew neither of them planned to give her clothes.

Snape's eyes flicked to the writing desk and saw a pile of parchments. Detailed inventories distinctively marked the pages. He chuckled. He didn't even have to tell her to do them anymore. She just knew when it was time. She was, truly, an extension of himself now-a-days. There was a time when such a revelation would have scared him. It would have terrified him to know that someone was close to being…familiar to him. There was a time not so long ago that any hint of a warmth to another soul would have been a betrayal of Lily's memory in his mind.

Lily.

His memories of his childhood friend were still a treasured part of his dreary past, but now he something tangible and real. It wasn't to say what he had with Lily wasn't tangible and real back when it happened, but what was filling up his present was a warmth that was unlike anything he had ever had as a child or as a student at Hogwarts. 

And Lily… she had repudiated him. She had never forgiven, and she had never forgotten his one angry slip of the tongue cast in anger as the man who would become her husband hung Severus upside-down and humiliated him. She could forgive Potter but never him. 

As he sat down by the fire, Hermione shifted and crawled over to him, laying her head in his lap as she snuggled into his legs, sprawling her arms across his lap in a lazy and comfortable drape. He drew his hand across her hair ass though he would against her feathers. Her mind touched his like the embrace of a hug, taking comfort in him.

It was this, he knew, the very innocent seeking of his touch and his comfort, that explained to him why his relationship with Lily was doomed to fail. Had Lily truly loved him she would have seen into his heart and known his pain over his angrily spewed venom. 

Instead, it was a Gryffindor over a decade later that wriggled her way into his abused and atrophied heart, pumping blood into areas he didn't even remember having and breathing life into lungs he hadn't realised he had been holding his breath in.

And she forgave him. She didn't even have to know all the details. In that regard, she didn't care. She knew his heart, and she knew his well guarded and secretly kept love.

It wasn't that he had let her in. In true Slytherin style, she had slithered between the protective scales of his many protective shields. By the time he realised she was there, she was so integrated into his sense of self that the very thought of her not being there was torturous in its own right. Fact proved as he had felt her scream to him as Grawp attempted to squeeze the lift out of her and everything that mattered came down to one thing… her.

Severus slumped down on the comfortable cushion behind his daughter and leaned into her, feeling her automatic and instinctive snuggle into his body. His arm went around her waist as his eyes closed.

He had once loved only a talented young witch with flaming red hair and startling green eyes, and she could never love him for all that he was. As sleep tugged at him, dragging him into the blissful peace of oblivion, he realised he still loved a talented young witch, only this time, she loved him right back. He thanked every magical deity he knew for the gift of a daughter that gave him the all-encompassing trust of a child, the love of a daughter, and the peace of belonging to someone who needed him as much as he needed her. 

There was a soft pop of a port-key and the sound of claws against stone. Severus didn't even bother to move. There were only so many people that could just port into the Lair, after all, and only one of them walked on four legs.

Viktor gave a loud yawn and a whine, snuffling both Severus and Hermione. He nuzzled into Severus' hair, reinforcing the pack-like bond between them as he flopped down behind him, sprawling on the cushion with a whuft of warm air. With a flop, his foreleg draped over Hermione and Severus as his wing opened over them and his tail pulled around them both, covering them with his peacock feathered tail. His wet nose pressed against Severus' neck as he snuffled around and got comfortable, but he finally settled his head between both him and her and closed his eyes.

Severus took a deep breath as the familiar warmth of his somewhat odd-ball family relaxed him. If Trelawney had been sitting in front of him some five years before and predicted that he'd be lying on the floor cuddled between a Gryffindor daughter who happened to be a gryphon and her Durmstrang simurgh suitor, he would have sneered right into her face and told her where the door was right after kicking her crystal ball down the staircase.

Despite the fact that it was becoming quite normal for him to be lying on the floor in front of the fire in a pile, he knew that Animagi weren't exactly commonplace. The normality of whether Animagi in general liked the physical comfort of their group was questionable. For the longest time, Minerva was the only one he knew of that he saw regularly. Black had, of course, been gallivanting around sharing his fleas for years with Potter and Pettigrew, but that hadn't become common knowledge to Severus until the last few years. It wasn't like he had ever had the desire to cuddle up to Minerva just because she was a cat.

It had, however, become normal for this particular group to find reassurance and support together, smearing each other's scents upon the other members of their little pack, making sure they touched as they slept, and taking comfort from about a hundred small touches and gestures of body language that he'd never even realised they were doing until recently.

The fact that he came to welcome such interactions was even more baffling to the old Severus Snape, but if he took a moment to admit it to himself, he realised that he was not the same man he was only a few years previously. He had changed and been changed by something so terribly simple and as undeniably profound as compassion. It had been compassion that had started to whittle away at his impressive shields and bitterness. Once that was done, Hermione had paved the way into an emotion he never thought to have returned to him—love.

While he could definitely say that now he had far more comfort in himself to admit that he actually cared for more than just Hermione now—it was she that had caused this profound change and remade the man that was Severus Snape into a man whose mask was truly a mask but whose true self was now so much more. 

Little Vik wriggled out of Hermione's hair and settled between his hand and Hermione's body with a content chirp of satisfaction.

Severus's mouth twitched upward slightly as his hand curved around Vik's warm little wings even as they were all covered by Viktor's larger spread wing. He would take this make-shift family over the one he had been born into, and he would take the love of his ardent adopted daughter over the pain of an unrequited love from a childhood friend. He would love Lily, always, but he chose to live now for something greater than the memory of a girl whose choices and his had long since parted ways.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What in Merlin's name are you eating, Draco?" Severus grunted, as a distinctively fermented smell came from the direction of the blond-haired boy who may or may not be his godson, depending on how he answered the question.

Draco froze in mid-chew, looking extremely guilty. "Marrmight," mumbled Draco, mouth full of something.

Viktor sneezed, wrinkling his muzzle as he folded his wings to his side and exposed his teeth in a grimace.

Hermione made a sniffing sound and then quickly rolled over and burrowed into Severus, smashing her head into his robes. "Great Merlin," she moaned into Severus' sleeve.

Severus patted Hermione's head gently in sympathy. Having no one to bury his own face into at that given moment, he decided to be the adult in the room and sit up with a neutral expression instead of madly rubbing his nose and moaning.

"Draco," Severus verbally poked his godson. 

"Mrrmph?" Draco replied, having resumed stuffing his face as he read the book in his lap.

"What…are… you eating?" Severus droned.

Draco held up his hand as he stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Marmite."

Severus closed his eyes to cover up the fact he was rolling them. Opening them again, he raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember Marmite being quite so… horrendous smelling," he confessed with a wrinkle of his nose.

"It's not my fault you have super sensitive senses of smell," Draco said with a sniff. "I happen to like the smell."

Viktor, deciding that his canine nose was not doing him any favours, shifted into his human form and shook his head. "Vill have to see if you like Surströmming," Viktor said with a yawn. "But you not allowed to open can inside, or I will mop the floor with your face."

Draco looked at Viktor curiously. "Sur…what?"

Viktor pried Hermione off Severus and pulled her close. She went limp against him as he groomed her hair with his fingers. "Swedish invention. Created by people vho either very hungry or very desperate. Is herring. Fermented."

Draco looked at Viktor suspiciously. "I'll take my Marmite, thanks," he said, closing the book he was reading.

"And you can have it," Hermione grunted as Viktor rubbed her neck. "I don't even want to know how you got your hands on a jar."

Draco grinned at her. "More for me and trade secret!"

Hermione shuddered. Ever since she gained a super sensitive nose, there were some foods that seemed more like a punch to the face than appetising, and Marmite was on that list of "thanks, but no." While she realised it was terribly fickle of her to thumb her nose at certain foods when she partook of raw dead things, she at least thanked whatever deities that had a hand in imprinting her personality to be a gryphon that she was not, say, a Komodo dragon, that was perfectly happy eating things that were rotting. Blech.

"Oh that note, I'm going to brush my teeth and shuffle off to breakfast, where I'm going to smear a waffle with butter and drown it in maple syrup like a normal person," Hermione said as she kissed Viktor on the head and stood. She rolled her eyes at Draco as he made faces at her. She exited the Lair with a whoosh of fabric.

Severus sighed as he stood, his eyebrows furrowed as he caught sight of what book Draco was reading.

"I swear to Merlin, Draco, if you got any of that horrible smelling concoction on my first edition of Drinking From the River Lethe: Potions From Ancient Greece, I will personally insure you a detention with Charon."

Draco waved his hands innocently. "I swear, Uncle, not even a crumb on it!"

Severus snatched his book out of Draco's lap and inspected it glaringly. Without another word, he swept out of the room, taking his book with him.

Draco looked sheepish as Viktor stood and yawned. 

"Breakfast sound like good idea," Viktor yawned. "Must go check on brothers to make sure they didn't have a drunken party while I vas away."

Draco lifted a brow. "That happen often?"

"Has been a vile," Viktor said thoughtfully. "Last time was… just after graduation. Had to rescue passed out Petya from atop roof of synagogue in Russia."

Draco's eyes widened. "That must have been something to see."

"He claims after that last thing he remember vas beautiful woman in a red dress and a large bottle of Muggle vodka," Viktor recalled. "Be lesson to you, Draco."

Draco shook his head sharply as if to clear it. "What?"

Viktor smirked at him. "Beware beautiful women and alcohol mix. End up naked on top of synagogue three countries over."

Draco gulped. "I'll… um… try really hard not to be in that situation."

Viktor grinned at him. "Vise not to be Petya, da." He walked across the room and set his hand on a seemingly random brick on the wall and said something in Bulgarian. The port-key whisked him away moments after.

Draco stared at the space Viktor disappeared from. Yeah… he was going to stick with pumpkin juice with an occasional butterbeer. He was never, ever, going to be in a situation where he would have to explain to Severus or anyone else why he woke up naked on the roof of… well anyplace, in this country or anywhere else.

Draco hopped out of his chair and exited the room, snatching the jar of Marmite from the side table and carrying it with him. At least Marmite couldn't get him drunk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random scene with Draco and Marmite inspired by the fact that I ran out of luncheon meat and only had the lonely jar of Marmite sitting on the counter.


	52. Writing Home and the Twin's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione contemplates the real relationship between herself and her parents.  
> Umbridge has a nightmare.

**Chapter 52: Writing Home and the Twin’s Lament**

Severus walked into his Apprentice buried in parchments. She was so buried that he could barely see her head over the stack.

Vik, the ever parchment and scroll loving hippogriff popped his head out from one of the stacks and chirped a greeting before resettling back into the pile.

“Ever wonder how Vik seems more aware of his surroundings than most people we know?” Hermione’s voice came from behind the scroll pile.

“With most of the dunderheads in my classroom, it does not surprise me that a miniature hippogriff somehow manages to outshine them,” Severus remarked with a sniff.

Hermione moved a few of the scrolls over to peer at him, arching his curious eyebrow back at him.

Severus regarded his Apprentice with a tolerant look that would never be seen in one of his classrooms while students were in it. “What are… you doing?” he enquired, extending his hand to shuffle the stacks of parchments over.

Vik chirped in protest but resettled quickly after.

“Answering your fan mail,” Hermione answered without looking up from what she was writing.

Severus arched a brow, suppressing a shudder. “The truthful answer, please,” he answered her, bopping her lightly over the head with a rolled up piece of parchment.

“Well, I did answer some of your fan mail, Master,” Hermione confessed. “It was because they were enquiring on the possible use of moth flies as substitutes for lacewing flies, and I replied to them as true to your normal eloquence as possible.”

Severus extended his hand silently in askance. Hermione placed a scroll in his hand.

He unrolled it with half curiosity and half trepidation. The scroll was a good four feet before the writing stopped. After the writing stopped, there were painstaking anatomical drawings of the difference between lacewing flies and moth flies. She had inserted scales drawn in next to the bodies and washed colour over the drawings themselves, making them look like they were going to leap off the paper at any moment and take flight.

Breaking off of the drawings of the flies, arched about seventeen arithmancy equations detailing the vectors of explosion that would happen if said flies made their way into the recipe. She detailed how long it would take each potion to settle before they blew up and included equally complex equation work on workarounds for the substitutions that would. If he were reading it correctly, it would take about fifteen extra days to accomplish, and it involved the use of twelve other ingredients to counter each other in a precise order.

Severus smirked as he read the conclusion paragraph at the bottom of the scroll. It said, in the most professional manner possible, that they were better off paying to have lacewing flies shipped to them from owl post than to attempt substituting another type of fly. He was quite impressed. She managed to do exactly what he would have done. Called them a dunderhead without them knowing it, then proving them an imbecile if they couldn’t read the extensively technical notes on the parchment to realise it. It was… beautifully Slytherin.

The corners of his lips quirked upward.

He took out the sealing signet from his robe pocket and poured wax from the nearby warming bowl onto the parchment. He pressed it to the scroll to seal it, his dark eyes meeting Hermione’s eyes as the rush of magic locked the scroll together.

Mischief flickered across Hermione’s face as she watched him seal the scroll with his seal, telling her, in no uncertain terms, that he approved of its contents as though he had written it himself.

“Now,” Severus said. “Tell me what you are really writing?”

Hermione looked slightly sheepish as her quill finally stopped scrawling. She took in a deep breath. “I’m trying to write my parents and tell them how I am. It’s mum’s birthday tomorrow, and I’m having a hard time putting it all into words.

Severus lifted a brow into his hair as he peered at the obvious mountain of parchment. “Words… do not seem to be your problem, if I may be so bold.”

Hermione visible slumped, setting her quill to the side. Little Vik poked his head out of the parchments and darted to her hand, chirping. Her hand alighted on his soft wings, bringing a smile to her face.

“I’m… having difficulty putting it into words I know they will find interesting without babbling about things they won’t be interested in,” Hermione confessed. “These,” she said, gesturing to the parchments, “are my failed attempts.”

Severus pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “I feel your conflict. What is bothering you?”

“It’d be so much easier if you just Legilimens the answer out of my head,” Hermione said in a rush.

“That would be cheating, daughter,” Severus said softly, his voice a rumble.

Hermione slumped into his lap. His hand alighted on her head gently, stroking her hair as he would her feathers. “When I was eleven… it was the most wonderful discovery of my life. For the first time in my life, the world was a complete mystery to me. There was this whole new world right under my nose that I had never known about. It was like all the books I hoarded as a child were more real than I remembered. Unicorns, owls that delivered the mail, draughts you could make that could more than just take away pain, spells that could make things float, change colour, alter completely… it was a dream.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but,’” Severus commented as she hesitated.

“I’ve been struggling to fit in with my family long before Hogwarts,” she said wistfully. “I lost something when I became of age to start school… confidence.

“I wanted to excel and prove to my parents that I was special… that I could be someone they could be proud of… but the more I tried to find things they would like, more distant they became.

“This bond we have, father,” she said, clutching his robes as she sank into his lap. “Through it…that very first time I felt your mental presence inside my head… It was the first time in my life that I felt proud of what I could do, of what I’d learnt, and what I could learn when I was with you. I felt I could make you proud of me. I felt… like I wasn’t some person you took care of because you went and had the baby, so now you had to take care of it.”

“There is a certain amount of irony in that confession,” Snape said quietly, “considering how many people in the student body have ever put the words ‘make you proud’ and my name together in the same sentence.”

Hermione gave a dry laugh. “I know, I know. Hear me out, okay?”

“As you wish,” he said with a straight face.

“I adored the ground my parents walked on when I was little,” Hermione said, a tone of sadness. “I had no doubt of their love for me, but… then I got older. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t play with me anymore… and why the things I saw were not greeted the same acceptance as when I was small.

“I went to school. I read every book I could get my hands on. I received high marks. I had glowing reports from my teachers. I wanted to know everything I could about teeth and what my parents did,” Hermione continued, “but it seemed like the more I learnt, the less they had time for me.

“They weren’t neglectful. They fed me well. Mum never forgot a birthday. They never, ever laid a hand on me, and they were never like the Dursleys,” Hermione said as she used her hand to play with the fabric of Severus’ outer robe. She took in a deep breath and exhaled softly. “They just… went back to work. They went to their practises, dealt with their patients, came home, made sure I was fed and had done my homework… but it was like the magic was gone if you’ll… pardon that expression.”

Severus grunted, his hand had not stopped stroking her hair ever so gently the entire time she was speaking.

“When I got my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione continued. “It was like this giant weight had been lifted from their shoulders. They smiled at me again. They were happier. I thought they were happy for me, and I wanted to make them proud… but I could never figure out how. I tried. I tried writing this epic letters telling them of all the glorious things I’d learnt and what adventures I’d been on. I never felt connected to them like I was when I was little.” She paused, her fist closed around his robe and drew it closer to her as if to cover herself with it. “I realised something when I went back home during the summer and when Viktor’s parents invited mum and dad over for dinner in Bulgaria.

“My parents are perfect to me during short-term engagements,” she noted. “I couldn’t complain. They don’t understand the Wizarding world, but they have always supported me with whatever I have needed financially… but when it comes to the long-term emotion, they are unsure what to do with me.

“I think,” Hermione said quietly, “that I fit better into their lives as I am now—a visitor that comes back on breaks and acts the loving daughter and they the dotting parents. A daughter who comes back on break for an occasional skiing trip or trip to the Opera. Fleeting and temporary. In the end, I come back to Hogwarts, and they go back to their careers and each other… and I feel horrible saying it out loud, especially around Harry, who has every reason to complain about his childhood.”

Severus’s drew Hermione against him gently. “Sometimes, my Apprentice, the most insidious sort of unrealised neglect is the unspoken kind. It can be the lack of something you so desperately desire, even when everything else seems adequate—the kind of missing that leaves a hole in you that you search your entire life for and sometimes never find. It may not be criminal in the way the Dursleys make breathing seem like a crime if you are a wizard, but that void and the need to fill it can drive you to do some… less than stellar examples of mental acuity.”

“Like running away into the bathroom to cry to get attacked by a rampaging mountain troll?” Hermione speculated.

Severus snorted. “Like being branded by a reigning Dark Lord and calling your best childhood friend a Mud-blood.”

“I’ll admit that wasn’t my first guess,” Hermione said as she pulled herself out of Severus’ lap but laid her head against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t exactly one of my more shining moments of stunning intellectual prowess, I will admit,” Severus said with a sigh. “I was lucky, however.”

Hermione tilted her head slightly.

“I found something profound to fill that void in myself,” he explained, his dark eyes flicking to meet hers. “A daughter.”

Hermione’s eyes seemed to quiver in the light. She bit her lip briefly before throwing her arms around his waist and buried herself into his chest so abruptly that she practically bowled him off his chair. “I love you, father.”

Severus let his air out slowly, placing his hand upon her head ever so gently. “I love you too, insufferable know-it-all.”

“Dungeon bat,” she said softly.

“Stupid girl,” he huffed, his hand gently soothed her hair and combing his fingers through her wild curls. His presence brushed against her like the warmth of a well-loved quilt.

They sat there, silently as one embraced the other, sharing nothing but the warmth of their companionship between them.

Suddenly, Severus took a sharp breath. “I have a class to teach in twenty minutes, my Apprentice. I expect this horrible mountain of disorganisation to be off my desk before the students arrive and you fit to be seen.”

Hermione pulled back from where she had half buried herself in his robes and looked up into his face with a beaming expression as the warmth in her mind filled her up. “Yes, my Master,” she replied warmly and scooped the parchments off the desk, nesting miniature hippogriff and all.

“Hermione,” Severus said, tilting his head at her as she moved to carry off the parchments.

She turned to him curiously, arching her eyebrow.

“Whatever you choose to write your parents, it will be enough. They will be proud of you in their way,” he said softly.

Hermione met his gaze with insecurity.

“I know because I am so very proud of you,” he answered her unspoken question.

Hermione’s face had lighted up with the radiance of the sun before she dashed off with arms full of parchments.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Umbridge walked the corridors of Hogwarts with a heavy step, her fingers had a slight tremble as she clung to her wand, looking for a student to forcibly pry apart, shirt to tuck in, or simply to get into trouble for being out past curfew on this particular evening. Any excuse to punish was good. The little miscreants were asking to be punished.

There was the sound of cheerful singing floating down the hallway as she hit the edge of the swap that she had not been able to dispel any better than she had been able to force herself into Dumbledore’s office since she had driven him from it.

_Double, double, toil and trouble;_  
_Fire burn and cauldron bubble._  
_Double, double, toil and trouble;_  
_Something wicked this way comes!_

Umbridge stepped into one of the gondola boats that had become the only non-wet method of getting to the Great Hall. She grabbed one of the long oars, and paddled her way to the Hall. Apparently there were people hiding out in the Great Hall thinking she would not want to be bothered rowing there to deal with them, but she would prove them wrong right now.

Umbridge huffed as she worked moving the gondola by herself. The oar was unwieldy and awkward to her, and she cursed at the throng of show off students that seemed to make it seem to easy to use.

As she stepped from the gondola to the threshold of the Great Hall, the boat tipped precariously, dumping her unceremoniously onto her hands and knees on the landing. She got up, brushed herself off with irritation growing to new heights, and stormed towards the giant doors, flinging them open in order storm in and break up the merry-making in the hall.

Vapour and mist billowed around her as she opened the doors. The fog was so thick that she could feel it slide across her skin as if someone was drawing fabric across her. There was a damp and strange odour in the air that seemed to both strengthen and recede at the same time. The vapour swirled around her with changing coloured tentacles.

She waved her wand, attempting to dispel the annoying mists, but it seemed only to move out of the way temporarily and then whoosh back into the vacated area with haste.

Light seemed to come from one side of the hall, and she made her way towards it, finding at least one thing to focus on in order to orientate herself to the room. As she approached, however, the mists seemed to recede, exposing a large cauldron. A red-headed long-haired student was stirring the cauldron with a huge, over-sized stirring spoon that was taller than she was. She had on her formal student robes and pointed hat as she swung back and forth in time to the singing that was still floating around the room.

_Eye of newt and toe of frog,_  
_Wool of bat and tongue of dog,_

The girl had thrown a handful of what looked like eyeballs into the cauldron. After which she grabbed a dead frog and ripped off the toes, casting it into the cauldron with a flare of her hands. The cauldron seemed to half-explode with a cloud of vapour and bats formed out of the steam towards Umbridge, zooming into her face. As each “bat” slammed into her, a huge canine tongue extended and slurped Umbridge across the cheek. Dolores shook her hands, staggering backwards into the mists, wildly trying to beat the magical bats from assaulting her.

The room was thick with mist again, but another flickering light came from a direction and Umbridge staggered towards it, angrier than before.

As she approached the flickering light the second time, another cauldron was exposed in the mists, only this time, two gangly and tall male students were stirring the over-sized cauldron with two equally over-sized stirring spoons. One was stirring clockwise, and the other was stirring anti-clockwise. She recognised the two Weasley twins and felt her face flush with anger.

They didn’t even respond to her as she started to yell, their eyes stared off into space as their bodies rocked to the sound of the chant-like singing.

_Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,_  
_Lizard's leg and howlet's wing._

The two reached into their robes and pulled out what looked like potion ingredients. One threw in a large forked tongue and what looked like a venomous stinger. The other threw in a desiccated leg with claws curved as though grasping something and a disembodied wing. They rocked back and forth on both legs, and their eyes began to glow. Their brown eyes filled with a strange purple glow that spread out from their irises and bled out over the edges. The almost electrical shimmer oozed out from their eyes, seeming to both drip and cracking outward as they began to chant to the driving song around them.

Vapour serpents rose from their cauldron and focused on Umbridge, hissing loudly as their mouths opened to expose shining and tangible teeth. Venom dripped from the fanged mouths, and the serpents struck out towards her face.

Umbridge cried out and staggered backwards, blocking her face with her hands as she spat out a shielding spell to protect herself. The vapour swallowed up the second cauldron, and again there was only one light to guide Umbridge forward.

She staggered forward, wand held out with a growing tremor in her hand. She frantically dispelled the vapour, calling in a wind to blow it away, but what it revealed made her wish that she hadn’t done that at all.

Pale lips pulled back from canine teeth as golden eyes glared at her through the dissipating mist. Foam flecked around a grey muzzle as pointed ears pinned back on the werewolf’s head. Fine grey fur sparsely covered equally grey skin. The golden eyes stared at her accusingly.

_In the cauldron boil and bake,_  
_Fillet of a fenny snake,_

The werewolf leapt upon her, jaws open to bite, and Umbridge flung out spells in rapid succession to stop the monster’s descent upon her. Teeth clacked inches from her face, its hot breath breathing into her nostrils with an acrid, half-rotting scent.

“Enough,” a velvet voice intoned and suddenly the werewolf had pulled away with a whine, retreating into the mists. Before her was the dark and aquiline features of Severus Snape, his dark robes hanging about him in an elongated fashion.

His pale features seemed to glow in the surrounding vapour.

_Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,_  
_Witches' mummy, maw and gulf._

Beside him was the Granger girl, dressed as Snape was, but donning a black pointed hat as she too stirred a cauldron in front of her. The singing had continued the entire time, and the girl rocked back and forth to the tune. She pulled out a large scale the size of a shield and hoisted it into the cauldron.

The werewolf padded up next to her, and she reached over to stroke the werewolf’s jaw as a lover would, gently stroking the line of his jaw. The werewolf opened his mouth, and she reached in, yanking out a tooth in a quick motion. The werewolf didn’t even seem to react as she pulled away a tooth and cast it into the cauldron, stirring.

An unkindness of ravens materialised in the mist, fluttering their wings as their beaks open and they croaked:

_Fire burn and cauldron bubble._  
_Double, double, toil and trouble;_  
_Fire burn and cauldron bubble._

_Something wicked this way comes!_

“Didn’t Lucius tell you, Dolores,” Snape’s deadpan and eerily pale face turned to her, “not to mess with what is mine?”

His hand alighted on Granger’s neck, slowly pushing aside her head to expose her throat. Cruel fangs glinted from Snape’s mouth as he bared them, sinking them into the girl’s throat as he stared at Dolores with fathomless black eyes.

He pulled away after a few moments; blood trickled down the sides of his mouth as he hissed at her. “I do so hate it,” he said through bared teeth, “when people stick their necks where they do not belong. How fortuitous that is once less imbecile left to protect you… Dolores.”

He cast his gaze into the cauldron; his expression was impassive. He stepped back into the mist, taking his Apprentice and the werewolf with him.

Dolores slowly, unable to resist the impulse, looked into the cauldron.

Fudge’s floating head bobbed in the cauldron, eyes wide as he stared into hers in death.

Dolores didn’t stop screaming as the mists closed around her.

_Something wicked this way comes!_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione stood with her fingers steepled as she leant against he corridor wall outside Umbridge’s personal chambers. Fred and George had a mini cauldron set outside her door and were wafting the vapours under her door dutifully.

Fred and George extinguished the cauldron quickly when Umbridge’s screams started. They exchanged glances and then looked at Hermione with wide eyes.

Hermione drummed her fingers together without changing expressions. She stood, her dark robes hung about her like dark wings.

As Umbridge’s screams turned into whimpers on the other side of the door, Hermione’s mouth twisted into the kind of grin that send shivers though the twins. She spun and retreated down the lonely corridors of Hogwarts, loosing a maniacal chain of laughter that echoed down the hallways. It wasn’t her voice at all, and the sound of it was far more than just eerie. There was a crash inside of Umbridge’s office and the sound of the whimpers of an injured animal.

Fred and George quickly retreated down the hall in the opposite direction.

“I take it back, brother,” Fred said.

“What do you take back, Fred?” George muttered as they beat a hasty retreat to the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Hermione doesn’t need Snape to be scary all on her own,” Fred said as they practically ran down the hallways.

“You’re right, Fred,” George agreed. “Think she’ll ever tell us what she put in that cauldron?”

“Never,” Fred said.

“I’m never going to try and sneak U-No-Poo into her food again,” George blurted as they picked up the pace.

“Wise idea, George,” Fred agreed. “Might want to remove that nose-biting teacup before she tries to take a drink out of it.”

George groaned. “She’s going to kill me.”

Fred shook his head. “No, she won’t, bro.”

George looked at his brother. “Why do you say that?”

“She’ll torture you alive,” he answered with a straight face.

George closed his eyes. “Do you think she’ll forgive me if I give her a Pygmy Puff?”

Fred shrugged. “Miniature Puffskeins are cute, brother, but you might be better off offering her a few pounds of her favourite chocolate.”

“How many pounds do you think I should get her?” George asked, scratching his head with his hand.

“At least three if she manages to stun it before it bites her nose,” Fred recommended. “Fifteen if it manages to grasp onto her face.”

George gulped. “Can I borrow a galleon?”

“I’m not the one who replaced her teacups with biting teacups!” Fred accused.

“You enchanted them!” George countered. “And you had to say ‘wouldn’t it be great if Granger accidentally used one for her evening tea?’”

Fred glared at George, not wanting to be the reason behind George’s mischief this particular time, especially after seeing what Hermione just did to Umbridge while she slept.

A banshee like scream came from down the hallway that sounded a lot like Umbridge tearing down the hallways.

The twins scrambled in behind the portrait to their common room in a flurry of movement.

“Hey, what were you sods up to?” Ron said as he looked up from the couch by the fire.

Fred and George flopped in next to him on either side.

“Hey, bro,” the twins chimed as they wrapped their arm around their younger brother’s shoulders together. “What kind of chocolate does Hermione like?”

Ron slowly lowered the copy of _Dodging that Bludger: Quidditch Strategy from the Masters_ and eyed his brothers with suspicion. “What did you do to piss her off now?”

“Oh, she’s not pissed off at us at the moment,” George said.

“We’re just asking,” Fred said.

“Uh huh,” Rob said, knowing that his brothers were the furthest from angelic as Hagrid was a master of keeping secrets.

Suddenly, the floo came to life in green flames, and a wand pointed out the green fire.

“ _Petrificus Totalus Duo_!” a voiced hissed, and George and Fred stiffened and fell completely still next to Ron’s wide-eyed and completely surprised form.

Hermione calmly stepped out of the floo, her dark robes fluttered behind her as the green flames died in the hearth.

As Ron just stared at her dumbly while his petrified brothers lay next to him, Hermione took two teacups out from her robe and moved them in front of Fred and George’s faces. With a completely serene expression, she dropped them on top of each of their faces, watching the cups come to live and latch onto the twin’s petrified faces, chomping their noses with an unsettling growling sound.

“Hey, Ron,” Hermione said conversationally, her expression completely calm.

“Er.. ‘Ey ‘ermione,” Ron squeaked.

“How’s Harry’s nightmares coming along?”

“Uh.. He hasn’t had any since a few weeks ago,” Ron said. “It’s been quite nice actually.”

“Hnn,” Hermione said as if evaluating the weather conditions before a Quidditch game. “Glad to hear it.” She leant over Fred and George’s face, her hand reached out and slowly stroked the enchanted teacup with her hand. The teacup let out a soft purr and clamped tighter on George’s face. “I’d highly recommend you keeping your jokes to those who desperately need it more than I,” she purred at George, continuing to stroke the enchanted teacup with her fingers. “Lest one of them come back and… bite you on the face, hrm?”

“By the way, Ron, please let Harry know that Hagrid is looking for him,” she said pleasantly.

“Erm, okay ‘ermione,” Ron replied quietly.

Hermione stood up straight, grabbed a bit of floo powder from her robe, and threw it into the hearth, causing green flames to rise. She said something in Latin that sounded like she’d thrown words into a Muggle blender and put it on high, and was gone almost instantly.

Ron leapt off the couch and took out his wand as his brothers made muffled sounds of protest from their incapacitated places on the couch.

Ron pointed his wand at the enchanted teacup, trying to remember the Vanishing Spell that Professor McGonagall had tried to teach them for their O.W.L.s.

Fred and George made subdued noises, but it was hindered by the enchanted teacups that were chewing on their face.

“Ee—vanes—co!” Ron incanted, finally remembering the name of the spell with a little difficulty. He watched the beam from his wand smack into the teacup on George’s face.

POP!pop!POP!pop!POP!

Five more irritated teacups were now latched onto George’s face. George’s eyes were wide, the only thing on him that was still able to move.

“Merlin… George… what did you DO to Hermione?!” Ron yelled at his brother. Six growling and agitated enchanted teacups were now clamped onto George’s eyebrows, ears, and nose.

“What’s all the commotion?” Harry’s voice said sleepily as he shuffled down the staircase from the dorm.

Ron made a face at him that tried to convey the amount of distress he was in.

“Jeez, Fred, what in blazes is on your face?” Harry said, pulling out his wand. He waved his wand and pointed at the teacup. “ _Evanesco!_ ” he said.

“No!” Ron yelled trying to stop Harry, but it was too late. The beam hit the cup square on the side.

POP!pop!POP!pop!POP!

Six agitated enchanted teacups were now latched onto Fred’s face as well. Fred’s eyes glared daggers at Harry, his body still unable to move.

Harry exchanged horrified looks with Ron.

“I swear that is the vanishing charm!” Harry protested.

Ron waved his hands. “That’s the problem, mate. You used the vanishing charm all right.”

Harry looked at the practical full tea service full of cups crawling over the twin’s faces. “Then why…”

Ron pointed at his brothers. “Because these two tried to prank ‘ermione.”

Harry slumped in the nearby chair by the fire. “Oh man,” he groaned. “You deserve everything you got. I don’t even want to know how she laced her intent on the spells. If we try to counter the petrification spell, it could set them on fire.”

Ron looked at him with a little more horror.

Seamus wandered down the staircase, rubbing his eyes. “What are you two yammering on about. I could hear you from bed.”

“The twins got themselves in a bit of a pickle,” Harry said, his head in his hands as he rubbed his face with his fingers.

Ron gestured to his brothers and put his head into his hands as well, rubbing his temples with interest.

Seamus stared at the two twins with curiosity. He shrugged and pulled out his wand and incanted, “ _Evanesco!_ ”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Apprentice,” Severus rumbling voice broke Hermione out of the trance her book had her in.

“Yes, Master?” she replied.

“Whatever is that you are… petting?” he asked curiously.

Hermione’s hand was stroking the miniature hippogriff and what appeared to be a teacup with teeth. Both were rubbing up against her hand happily. “One of Fred and George’s little pranks. I believe Fred was the creator of the actual cup. George, however, saw to putting the little blighter into my tea service I had sitting out in the classroom today. Viktor and I did a few… improvements on the original model.”

Severus lifted a brow and extended his hand to the enchanted cup. The cup rubbed up against his hand and purred like a cat. “Fascinating.”

Hermione closed her book and grinned at him. She lifted up the cup and placed it next to one of the tea services that neither of them ever used, watching the enchanted cup cuddle up to the teapot and settle.

Severus shook his head. “Tell me, has there been anything else I should know about that happened tonight?”

Hermione gave her Master a grin. “Possibly, my Master.”

The Potion Master arched a brow and reached for one of the tea services they did use. “Time for more tea then,” he replied.

Hermione grinned at him and went to fetch the water kettle from the hearth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Fred and George. Silly boys. They just can’t help themselves. They might want to after that though. Muahahahaaaaa.


	53. Had it With Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid has a task for Harry and Ron.

Chapter 53: Had It With Hagrid

Harry’s normal excitement to go and see Hagrid was a little dampened by the knowledge that he had promised the half-giant to help with his half-brother, and he really wasn’t looking forward to that particular situation at all. Ron, blissfully unaware, at least made a cheerful companion as they sneaked down to Hagrid’s hut. Hermione, to be expected, did not accompany. 

Hermione was, even in a more healed state than she was weeks previous, suffering from the kind of wounds that have no ointment. Snape, as if adding confirmation in that regard, had Hermione under the kind of eye that that kept her under close watch any time he saw her walking outside. Inside of Hogwarts, the tension seemed less, even with Umbridge trolling around the corridors. Any time Harry saw her heading towards Hagrid’s hut, however, she was always escorted, either by himself or another professor or one of his Slytherin like Draco Malfoy.

Harry shuddered. He doubted Hermione would be able to say much to Hagrid with Malfoy hanging around. Anything she said would go right back to Snape via Malfoy’s taddle-tail tongue.

Yet, Harry had to admit to himself, Snape did have Hermione’s safety in the forefront. After seeing him tend her wounds in the Dark Forest without the scathing attitude that normally marked their interactions, he believed that the Potion Master took care of “his own,” whether that be his Slytherin or his Apprentice. The moment she became “his,” even under duress of Professor Dumbledore’s behest, the rules had changed, and Severus Snape did not shirk his duties either to his House or his Apprentice.

Harry also had to admit to himself that Hagrid’s blindness to danger was starting to endanger people in a way that was beyond a random kick of a hippogriff. The Dark Forest, technically, was off limits to any student without the escort of a Hogwarts professor, yet even with an escort, Hagrid had almost caused the trio’s inadvertent deaths. Spiders, for example. It was one thing to have one gargantuan acromantula shacking up in the woods, but Hagrid had given the giant spider a mate , and mate they did. All of the countless hungry babies that were the size of Muggle cars. And while said spiders seemed to think Hagrid was the best thing since cheese was invented, they did not, however, give the slightest care for Hagrid’s friends.

While he had not seen it, yet, Harry was pretty sure “Fluffy” was out in the Dark Forest as well, and he wasn’t exactly a kind sort of three-headed dog, if any such thing existed. Harry paused in his thoughts, wondering if the reason Dumbledore told people to stay out of the Dark Forest was because of Hagrid’s propensity to set loose dangerous… everything into it. No wonder the centaur were pissed at him. Harry was almost pissed at him, and he wasn’t even trying to live in the Dark Forest. He was actually a bit annoyed that he was losing the company of one of his best friends when outdoors thanks to Hagrid’s refusal to believe his half-brother was dangerous.

Hagrid let Ron and him into the hut with hurried gesture. “It’s great you came,” Hagrid said with relief. “I need your help, tonight. ‘Ey… where is ‘ermione?”

Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “After your half-brother almost crushed her to death, Snape isn’t letting her out of Hogwarts without an escort or an honour guard, sometimes both.”

Hagrid had a hurt expression on his face. “That’s nonsense. Grawp wouldn’t hurt a fly. She should be able to come out ‘ere an’ see me. She’s been doing in all the time since you all ‘ave been eleven.”

“Hagrid,” Harry insisted. “We need to talk.”

Hagrid waved his hand. “We can talk later, ‘arry. I’ve got somethin’ real important I need to help doin’ tonight.”

Harry took in his breath in frustration. 

Harry experienced a sudden facial tic. Hurting things was exactly what Grawp would do. 

Hagrid opened the back door and ushered them out. “Come on, then, let’s go.”

“Hey, where are we going?” Ron spoke up. “We’ve been walking around in the dark for over twenty minutes.”

“Grawpy ran off,” Hagrid said as he came to a sudden stop, causing both Harry and Ron to plough right into him. “I need you two to help me look for ‘im.”

“He’s a giant, right?” Ron said with a baffled expression. “If he’s anywhere around, don’t you think he’d be pretty easy to spot?”

“’E just likes to wander off is all,” Hagrid reasoned. “We ‘ave to find ‘im and bring him back.”

“Hagrid,” Harry insisted. “It really sounds like he doesn’t want to be here. If he doesn’t want to be here, why are you forcing him to stay? Like a prisoner?”

“He ain’t a prisoner!” Hagrid yelled. “’E’s just gotta realise this is ‘is ‘ome now.”

Harry sucked in his breath and let it out slowly. Slow deep breaths. Slow deep breaths.

“Harry, what really happened out here that day you and ‘ermione came out here to help Hagrid? She won’t even talk about it,” Ron asked. “All I know is she came back all beaten up and bandaged, and now Snape treats her like she can’t even walk out the main door without a chaperon. I asked her to come with us tonight and she clammed up and told me she wasn’t allowed out without permission. Since when has she ever needed permission to sneak out here with us?”

“You two split up and head out that way, okay?” Hagrid said. “Just call out to ‘im. If he ‘ears his name, ‘e’ll come.”

“Split up?” Ron squeaked. “In the Dark Forest at night? Are you mad? Hagrid, we’re not invincible. There are things in here that could eat us for dinner and not care! And what are we supposed to do if he does come? He’s a giant. If he doesn’t want to come, he’ll just pound me into the ground like a fence post!”

Harry nodded in agreement. For once, Ron was voicing exactly what he was thinking.

Hagrid scoffed. “There is nothing in ‘ere dat’ll hurt yas, Ron.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Ron said in a high voice. “You may be half-indestructible, Hagrid, but we’re not. There is stuff out here that wants to eat us. Like giant acromantula nests!”

“Don’t exaggerate, Ron,” Hagrid said with a shake of his head. “Go on, now.”

Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances.

“I swear to Merlin, if something out here kills me, I’m coming back to haunt you for the rest of your life, Hagrid,” Ron said, storming off into the dark with his wand providing the only light around.

Harry looked at Hagrid with a pleading expression. “Can we at least come back during the day, Hagrid?” he said with worry. “It’s pitch black out here. It’s dangerous enough out here when we can see where we’re going.”

“There’s a good chance he’ll be sleeping since it’s dark, Harry,” Hagrid insisted. “It’s good that he won’t be moving around as much.”

“But, Hagrid,” Harry protested.

“Harry, you promised to help me,” Hagrid insisted.

Harry gritted his teeth. And I am never promising you anything blindly again, he said to himself. “Fine, Hagrid, but if something eats me out here, I’m going to haunt you too.” Harry pulled out his wand. “ Lumos ,” he hissed and stormed off into the Dark Forest.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The good news, Harry was happy to report, was that Ron and himself had bumped into each other while wandering in the forest in the dark. The bad news was… they were now sitting on a high branch of a tree staring down at the reason why they were not getting down from it anytime soon.

Fluffy, the three-headed dog, whom they would have gone their entire lives happy to never see again since their meeting the first year at Hogwarts, was staring balefully at them from below. With front legs pinned against the trunk of their thankfully gargantuan tree, Fluffy was looking disgruntled that his prospective chew toy was not cooperating with his desire to to chew upon them.

“Nothing will hurt you, he says,” Ron muttered. “Perfectly safe, he says.” Ron clung to the trunk of the tree as he sat upon the branch. “Mind telling me why we let Hagrid convince us to do anything he says is safe?”

Harry sighed. “I wish I knew.”

“Enjoying the view?” Hermione’s voice broke the sound of Fluffy’s enthusiasm to topple the tree.

“Hermione!” Harry and Ron cried as they stared at Hermione, who was sitting on one of the nearby branches as though it were the most natural and logical place to be in the middle of the night.

“Hnn,” Hermione grunted, staring down below them. “Well, he doesn’t look very friendly.”

“Friendly?” Ron squeaked. “He still wants to eat us!”

Hermione tilted her head. “Well he did get a good taste of us back in the day. Maybe he’s pondering if we still taste the same.”

“Now is not the time to joke,” Ron moaned.

Hermione swung her legs under her, looking a lot like Luna did when she was swinging in the Beauxbaton’s courtyard’s tree swing. “Oh? And when would be a good time to joke?” Hermione’s voice was amused as she pulled a vial out from her robes. Her outer robes flickered in the wind, whipping behind her like a flag.

“Not right now, I’ll tell you that!” Ron yelled.

Hermione gave Ron a hurt look for a few seconds before the grin spread across her face again.

“Hermione, how did you get up here? How did you find us? How did you get away from Snape?” Harry blurted all at once.

“One, I flew. Obviously,” Hermione said as though commenting on the weather in the Bahamas. She uncorked the vial she had and poured it out into Fluffy’s snapping jaws. “Two, this was the only tree in the forest with horrendous barking coming from the bottom and human yelling coming from on top.” She peered down at Fluffy as if waiting for something to happen. “And three, who said I got away from him?”

Fluffy seemed to be confused as he stopped trouncing the bottom of the tree. He sat back on his haunches and whined, seemingly shrinking down. A black robed wizard stood over the newly shrunken Fluffy, a trio of mage lights circled him like his own personal moons. 

Severus sniffed lightly, picking up the newly puppied Fluffy by the scruff of the neck. “That was for taking a bite out of me five years ago,” he droned lowly at the squirming pup. Fluffy whined and squirmed. All three heads tried to slurp the bottom of his chin in appeasement. Severus looked disgusted. “You can come down now. The worst he can do to you now is lick you to death.”

Hermione placed her hands on the branch and swing down so she was dangling from it, dropping to the ground. Her feet touched the ground lightly as her body’s fall seemed slow just enough to land softly. Harry and Ron’s descent was not quite so graceful as they fell on top of each other with a painful grunt of protest.

Hermione’s face was delighted as she snatched the three headed pup in her arms and giggled as he licked under her chin and squirmed against her, tail wagging in a complete personality reversal. “Awww, you’re so cute!” she cooed. She pet all of his heads and giggled as he burrowed into her robes.

Severus averted his eyes, seemingly in disgust of the gratuitous show of cuteness and adoration.

“Hermione!” Harry said, attempting to hug her, but getting drooled on by three puppy heads. “How did you know we were in trouble?”

Hermione arched a very Snape eyebrow at him. “Hagrid wants to see you, after sunset and refuses to tell me what it’s about… I took a guess.”

Ron, looking strangely accepting of the entire situation, said, “She’s got us there, mate. We should have seen it coming too.”

Harry looked sheepish. His brows furrowed. “But how…”

Snape turned his head over to peer at Harry. “Contrary to a certain Game Keeper here at Hogwarts, who seems to think that allowing underage and unprepared wizards to run around in the Dark Forest without an escort is perfectly acceptable, Apprentice Granger had the forethought to ask her Master for assistance in… rescuing her…friends.” Snape’s droning voice twisted itself around the word friend as though uttering it was distasteful. “Seeing as allowing students to get themselves killed, even such stunning specimens of Gryffindor impulse before brains mentality, is frowned upon. I did… of course… decide to assist.”

“But Hermione,” Harry said. “You said you flew here!”

Hermione turned her head and stared into Harry’s eyes. “Are you a wizard or are you not, Harry Potter?”

Harry stared dumbly at her.

Hermione pulled something out of her robes and tapped it with her wand. Harry’s and Ron’s brooms grew in her hand into their full sized forms.

“But you hate brooms,” Ron protested as he grabbed his broom with all the welcome he would have for a long lost friend.

Hermione arched a brow. “I prefer other means of locomotion,” she said stiffly. “That does not mean I cannot use a broom.”

Harry took his broom from her with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Hnn,” Hermione replied, closing her eyes as the three-headed puppy slobbered all over one side of her face.

“That will be ten points from Gryffindor for the both of you for your horrible lack of judgement allowing yourselves to be pressured into wandering the Dark Forest at night without an escort, and it will be twenty more if you do not get back to your dormitories right now,” Severus snapped.

Ron and Harry leapt onto their brooms. “Yes, Professor Snape!” They disappeared with a whoosh of air back towards Hogwarts.

“Good thing the moon is almost full,” Hermione said with a sniff, pushing one puppy head a way from her ear. “Or they’d be spending the next two hours trying to figure out which direction Hogwarts is.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fluffy wriggled in Hermione’s arms, whining and licking the bottom of her chin with all his might. Hermione loved on him mercilessly, causing the pup to growl and lick and wriggle.

Hermione turned her head to look her father in the eyes.

“No,” Severus said sternly.

Four sets of eyes looked adoringly at him.

“Absolutely not,” he said, clenching his jaw.

And so it was. One more four legged freak of nature joined the pile in the Lair, and Severus swore to himself that it would be the very last one.

At least this time around, Severus reasoned, he would teach the little blighter to take a chunk out of Hagrid’s leg instead of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, it is not my intention to vilify Hagrid, by any means, but you have to admit the boy/man/half-giant is a few layers short of a cake when it comes to thinking things through. He gets on a one-tracked mind about... whatever he's obsessing about at that given moment.  
> And on a side-side note. Puppy Fluffy OMG. *dies of cute* seriously can you see the trouble puppy Fluffy and Hermione/Draco could get into? *rubs hands together evilly*


	54. Puppy Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy receives his official papers and a name change.  
> Cerberus expresses his opinion of Umbridge's shoes.

Chapter 54: Puppy Teeth

An owl was waiting on one of the chairs in the Lair when Hermione woke up, if one considered opening one eye and staring blearily out into space awake.

Newly renamed Cerberus, whose name of Fluffy went over with Severus like a flamethrower in a library, whined as he lapped her beak and chin and eyelid.. And whatever else he could get his tongue on. He even lapped Vik, who twittered at him in annoyance and dove deeper into Hermione's feathers. He wiggled his butt as his tail wagged back and forth like a propeller preparing to launch the rest of him into space at any given moment.

"Rrrrrr," he growled, bopping her beak with his two front paws. He sat on his haunches and peered at her for a response, three heads panting, whining, and drooling respectively.

Viktor's huge paw came out over Hermione's back and bopped one of Cerberus' heads down into the cushion, pinning the pup down.

The three-headed pup yipped and growled, flopping on his back and squirming under Viktor's large paw. Viktor pulled his lips back from his teeth and growled. The pup froze, looking at Viktor with three sets of dark eyes, tail wagging hopefully.

Viktor released his pinning hold on his newest supplicant, and let out a toothy yawn, snuggling back into Hermione.

Cerberus wiggled his way under Hermione's head and snuggled into her neck feathers. Hermione's eyes closed again.

"Whooo," the owl protested.

Hermione's eye opened once more, glaring blearily into the room. She groggily pulled herself off the ground from her very comfortable and warm spot next to Viktor and stretched, letting out an eagle squeak. Her beak clacked together as she padded towards the owl, talons clicking on the floor.

She pressed her beak against the owl and it hooted at her. It was standing on top of a parcel. Hermione squeaked at the owl. The owl ruffled its feathers and hooted again.

Squeak. Hoot. Squeak. Hoot.

Hermione sighed and transformed, staring at the Lair's interloper with a tired gaze. She relieved the owl of the parcel and walked towards the bowl of owl nuts on the mantle, holding them out to the owl.

The owl hooted gratefully, crunching into the owl nuts with gusto as Hermione tended the parcel. She removed the binding twine and unwrapped it. There was a scroll inside, sealed with the seal from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

 

* * *

Dear Master Severus Snape and Apprentice Hermione Granger,

After consulting with the Grecian Department of Conservation of Historical Magical Creatures, we have approved your license and permit to own and raise the three-headed dog, named Cerberus, at wherever abode within Europe you may travel as long as the proper tag is properly displayed upon the neck of said beast and the dog is set on a proper leash within Muggle public as well as glamoured properly if travelling in Muggle areas. The enclosed license is charmed with a proper altering glamour that will make the beast appear as a large dog of non-specific breed in order to make travelling less difficult.

The Grecian Department agrees with your assessment that the constant exposure to humans in early socialisation will be crucial to proper training and applauds your effort to bring attention to one of Greece's most historical magical creatures since mythical times. For this purpose, we, at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in concordance and in the spirit of cooperation with the Grecian Departments, will permit the ownership of said beast as well as allow under your permit, its appearance in public that it may prove to be an ambassador of its kind in the future

The Grecian Department also encourages you to setup a place in which this species may guard and make its den, as it is in its very nature to protect its domicile from outsiders.

Upon reaching full adulthood status, the Grecian Department of Conservation of Historical Magical Creatures wishes to speak with you about the possible breeding of Cerberus with a number of Grecian bitches so that the species bloodlines remain strong and as diverse as possible. The species is, unfortunately, exceedingly rare, and we wish to impress upon you how grateful our Departments are for your part in making sure the species does not fade into antiquity and leave the Wizarding world lesser in its absence.

Yours Sincerely,

Okapi Mistweaver

Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

* * *

 

Hermione fingered the magical collar and tag in her hand and smirked. So that is what had her father scribbling away by candlelight long into the night.

Hermione made an eagle-like chirp with her human vocal cords, and Cerberus came bounding towards her like his tail was on fire. He placed his paws up on her knees and panted, staring at her with anticipation.

"You're all legal now, darling," she grinned at Cerberus as she fastened the collar on him. The magic resized around his neck, insuring a proper fit without choking him. She lifted up the tag and looked at it. The emblem of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was on the front, but on the back was the combined sigils of both herself and her Master. "We can now take you anywhere with us."

Cerberus slurped her chin with all three heads, wagging his tail.

"You probably don't give a care in the world, do you?" Hermione chuckled, scratching each head behind the ears. "What this means, my fuzzy love, is that even Umbridge can't banish you from the grounds because you're a protected species and a visiting ambassador. Do you feel like an ambassador?"

Cerberus barked, tail wagging.

Hermione smirked.

Viktor's arms went around her waist and he pressed his face into her neck. "Good morning," he murmured.

Hermione leaned into his touch. "Good morning, Viktor."

"I leave you one night and you come back with three-headed puppy," Viktor said into her ear. "Afraid vhat I come back to if I leave longer than veek."

Hermione grinned at him and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his nose.

He smiled at her.

"You have to leave for the foreign game today, don't you?" Hermione said a bit sadly.

"Da," Viktor said as he stretched. "Try not to get crushed by giants and wrestle bears in the voods while I am gone?"

Hermione smiled at him warmly. "I will try my best."

"Good. Would hate to have to break something upon coming home," he answered, taking her hand and kissing the top before sweeping out the door in a movement that would have made Severus proud.

Hermione smiled as her face flushed, her one hand petting the hippogriff in her hair as the other distributed multiple pats to the multiple headed puppy begging for attention. If she kept this up, she was going to need a few extra sets of arms and hands. Having extra sets of arms would be pretty unpractical without hands to go with them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Snape's mouth twitched as something large, warm, and equipped with teeth, claws, and drool latched onto his left boot. "Turn to page two-hundred and ninety-four," he said without changing his expression to the class, moving his leg to push a certain puppy behind him.

"Today we will be working on the Dreamful Sleep Potion, which is a variant of the Dreamless Sleep Potion which should not be confused with the Dreadful Sleep Potion," Snape said with a sniff. "It is a fairly difficult potion, but nothing one attempting their O.W.L.s should find impossible." Cerberus was chewing dutifully on his toes, and Snape was suddenly glad that he had dragon-hide boots and not some Muggle leather variety.

"This potion is different from the Dreamless sleep in one main way, save its purpose, which is that it is the vapour that it emits that is what is used rather than drinking the liquid. For this reason, I expect you all to follow the standard protocol for brewing and not stick your faces into your cauldrons as you brew."

Students exchanged worried glances as Snape pointed to the board and his distinctive handwriting scrawled across it, detailing the ingredients and instructions.

"Now, you have your board, and you have your books, and my Apprentice had insured that every one of your desks was provided with the exact amount of ingredients you will need to succeed in this task. Begin."

Students hurried about starting their tasks, but a few chose to stare at the pup that was trotting up to Hermione with someone's dropped flask in his jaws. Each head was tugging on a different part of the flask.

Hermione looked down at the pup, shaking her head. She took the flask from him, patted him on the head and spread her hand out in a silent signal. Cerberus laid down on the ground next to her feet obediently, tail wagging.

"Mr. Finnegan," Snape snapped. "I assure you that my Apprentice already knows how to brew this particular potion intimately backwards and forwards. You, however, do not. Get to work."

"Y..yes, sir," Seamus stammered, going to back working on his potion.

Hermione was stirring her cauldron absently, her eyes flicking to the contents as she threw things into it. Her eyes closed a few times, almost as if she were sleeping, but then a sound from the cauldron would alert her, and her hands were already be in motion long before her eyes fully opened, and more ingredients would be throw in. Clockwise turns, anti-clockwise turns, and sometimes stirs that seemed like a combination of both marked her movements. Her expression, which had always had some mark of emotional investment in her potion work while she was a regular student, was expressionless. She made no effort to catch her Master's eye, nor did she cast her gaze towards the students in the class. In fact, until her hand reached for the ladle and she had decanted her potion into a transparent flask, she did not respond to the whispers that were pointedly aimed towards her coming from the Slytherin side of the classroom. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto Pansy Parkinson's and stared hollowly at her. But Hermione did not respond the way Pansy was used to. Pansy's prey targets had always given her uncomfortable responses or embarrassment to her jibes. Instead, Hermione tilted her head in a very Snape manner, eyes almost black in their fathomless regard. She stared back at Pansy, utterly silent and completely expressionless until Pansy was forced to look away. Only then did Hermione break her gaze and return to the flask at hand.

There had been rumours passed around the Slytherin House, that Hermione Granger was under the Imperious Curse. It was the only way that some of the more fanatical could not fathom why Snape would tolerate the insufferable Gryffindor, even under Dumbledore's orders. As Hermione stared emotionless and dispassionately into Pansy Parkinson's eyes, the rumours seemed confirmed. While some of the Slytherin treated her more neutrally because of her forced place as Snape's Apprentice, there were still a few notable people that wanted to push the boundaries and see what kind of grief they could still give the Gryffindor Muggle-born witch when Snape's back was turned. The grief, however, seemed to fall quite flat when their target did not respond.

Hermione stood with her flask, vanishing the remnants of her cauldron with a wave of her wand. She walked it over to Snape and handed it to him.

Snape took the flask and stared into it critically, his dark eyes as dark and impersonal as ever. He placed the flask on his desk and nodded his head to her. Hermione bowed her head slightly and returned to her side desk, where she reached for her quill and began to write in a notebook, her other arm reached out to scratch the pup under his first, second, and third head.

"This is the colour and consistency of the potion you should have by the time you are done. Anything less is not the level your O.W.L.s would expect," Severus said over the class. "And Mr. Jameson, if you put any more lotus petals into your cauldron, it is going to explode in your face."

BOOM!

The students around the exploded cauldron hurriedly shuffled out of the way to avoid the cloud of vapour surrounding the area Jameson was in. Jameson, however, was flat on his back, snoring.

Snape's expression was completely disgusted. "Apprentice."

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied immediately.

"Take Mr. Jameson to the hospital wing," he commanded apathetically.

"As you command," Hermione intoned without offence or passion. She walked over to the area where the cloud of purple fumes was still circling and took out her wand, chanting something that made the fumes seem to disappear into her wand. She then pointed it at the snoring Jameson, levitating him into the air. With one curled finger, she snagged Jameson by the collar of his robe and walked out of the classroom, dragging him with her without a backward glance with Cerberus trotting dutifully at her heels.

Snape stared across the rest of the classroom dispassionately. "Staring at the door does not a correct potion make, and those that cannot by the class end will be writing three feet of parchment on what they did wrong."

The classroom miraculously became more busy as students struggled to get back to their failing potions.

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched upward into a sneer as he returned to his desk and picked up a quill and began to write.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Ow!" Neville yelped, looking down under the table.

Three sets of brown eyes stared back at him.

"H…..h…ermione?" Neville stammered.

"Hrm, what Neville?"

"I…it's chewing on my foot!" Neville managed to blurt.

"Eh?" Hermione answered, arching a brow. "Oh!" She looked under the table where Cerberus was attempting to teethe on Neville's foot. Unlike her Master, Neville had not been informed about the importance of dragon-hide footwear. Hermione made a sound as she sucked air in between her teeth, and the pup stopped his assault on Neville's shoe to set his multiple heads on the bench and stare up at her hopefully.

Hermione passed the pup a turkey leg, and the three heads tackled it together, dragging it under the table with somewhat loud crunching sounds.

"Sorry, Neville, he's teething," Hermione said apologetically. "Your feet must smell good to him for some reason. I don't see him going after Harry's feet or Ron's."

"That's because their feet are superiorly stinky," Fred and George chimed together, causing Seamus and a handful of other students down the Gryffindor table to snicker loudly. Harry and Ron blushed furiously. Fred and George lured the pup to them under the table with another turkey leg.

While the three-headed pup was getting quite a few curious looks since his arrival, people seemed far more interested in the effect the pup had on Dolores Umbridge, who had tried to, in her official capacity, banish the "monster" from the grounds only to have the medallion on his collar neutralise the spells she had cast upon him as an official voice proclaimed, "This beast is protected under treaty with the Grecian Department of Conservation of Historical Magical Creatures and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures under docket 1527B-77. Designation: Beast, Species: Dog, Three-Headed, Name: Cerberus. Registered to Master Severus Snape and Apprentice Hermione Granger. Removal of Cerberus from vicinity of registered caretakers is expressly forbidden and punishable by fine and possible imprisonment for removal of a nationally protected species from the domain of designated caretakers. Kind regards, Okapi Mistweaver, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

If there had been any glimmer of hesitation about acceptance of the three-headed pup, all of it disappeared the moment Umbridge voiced her displeasure of it. Then, in a direct 180 degree turn in the opposite direction, the pup became accepted by everyone. Any creature that pissed of Umbridge was worthy of respect.

When Umbridge had stood with her wand still pointed at Cerberus as the official message admonished her, the pup bounced up to her stiff form, snuffled her very pink shoes, and hiked his leg over her ankle.

"Cerberus!" Snape snapped as he appeared out of nowhere. "Attend."

The pup snapped up all three heads and trotted dutifully to his side.

"My sincere apologies, Headmistress," Snape said, his face completely expressionless. "We are still working on… potty rules."

Umbridge's face was scarlet as she set her jaw and stormed out of the Great Hall. There was the sound of splashing as she trudged through the swamp instead of waiting for one of the boats.

Cerberus looked up adoringly at Snape as his pale hand ever so subtly scratched behind his ears as his hand signalled, "Good."

Cerberus licked his hand, tail wagging as the story of his triumph over Umbridge's shoes spread like wildfire through the Great Hall.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco stood stiffly looking down at the pup with a stern expression. He lifted his hand and spread his fingers.

Cerberus stood up from his place on the floor and backed up.

Draco flicked his hand out, and Cerberus bounded over to Hermione.

Hermione laid her hand flat in the air, and Cerberus laid down on the ground, staring up at her expectantly. She drew her hand into a fist closer to her chest and then flicked her fingers out.

Cerberus bounded over to Severus and looked up at him.

Severus twitched his finger, and the pup spun around. Snape flung his fingers out and then dropped his hand, and Cerberus bounded over to Draco and leapt upon him, knocking him down onto the cushion in the lair. All three heads slurped Draco mercilessly as the pup wagged his tail and barked.

Hermione laughed just before she yawned and flopped near the fire. Her eyes glistened with amusement.

"I can't believe you de-aged Fluffy, took him out of the forest, and registered him with the Grecian Department of Conservation of Historical Magical Creatures and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures right out from Hagrid's nose," Draco laughed as he pushed the pup off his face. "Does Hagrid even realise that Cerberus and Fluffy are one and the same?"

"I think not," Severus answered. "He was bemoaning that once he had a three-headed dog pup, but he had to release him into the Dark Forest."

Draco frowned and Cerberus immediately whined and wagged his tail, trying to make whatever was bothering him better, one slurp at a time.

Face half-covered in puppy slobber, Draco laughed, loving on the pup mercilessly until he squirmed and wiggled and pawed at his hands. "How did something like this little guy turn into the righteous terror of the third floor forbidden corridor?"

"A word?" Severus asked.

"Hnn," Draco said, unwittingly lapsing into the same grunt his godfather and Hermione used.

"Hagrid," Severus answered.

Draco shook his head, knowing he should had known that. "It is in his nature to guard things, though. That's what they are renowned for?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that the little blighter will grow up to be an excellent watch-dog," Snape answered. "But he will be well socialised to people, respond to commands, and know when he's on guard duty and when when he's not."

"I can guarantee you that Fluffy was a bear to handle when he was grown," Hermione recalled the dog's renowned attitude towards everyone.

"Albus told Hagrid that he couldn't keep the dog in Hogwarts anymore after the fiasco with the Philosopher's Stone. Once the stone was gone, there was really no need for a giant super-territorial guard dog that couldn't be socialised anymore," Severus said. "So, Hagrid being Hagrid, released him to be 'free" in the Dark Forest since he was 'perfectly 'armless and misunderstood.'"

"Are you going to take him to meet all the centaurs, Uncle?" Draco asked as he took a thrice knotted rope and dangled it in front of Cerberus. The pup grabbed on to each knot and practically pulled Draco over in his enthusiasm to win the tug-of-war game.

"That will be essential, so he knows who is 'family' from strangers," Severus agreed.

"He's going to be gargantuan when he's older," Hermione noted. "He has huge paws to grow into."

At the sound of Hermione's voice, the pup loosed the rope knots he was fussing on and bounded over to her, bowling her over and wriggling against her body for attention. Then, as if all the energy just drained out of him, flopped on her and fell asleep. Hermione stared at the practically narcoleptic pup and a quiver showed on her lips. "He's so… adorable!"

Draco laughed and Severus rolled his eyes.

Severus sat down with a tired sigh. "We may be able to make him a charmed collar that will keep him at a more… reasonable size. The Department said they expected him to be leashed and glamoured when travelling, but I'm pretty sure they also mean realistically sized."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Ever read Clifford the Big Red Dog? Muggle story?"

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," Severus said, arching a brow.

"Runty red puppy grows up to be the size of a house," Hermione said with a smile.

"Is that normal for Muggles?" Draco asked.

"Not in any way," Hermione said with a grin. "It's a children's story." Cerberus was snoring into her face. She furrowed her brows. "Father?"

"Hnn?" Severus grunted.

"Did you… give Cerberus a breath potion?"

"Perhaps."

Hermione giggled. "He smells like chocolate.

"Mission accomplished," he replied, sinking down on the cushion himself and letting out a tired sigh. "Better that then fetid dog breath three times over."

Hermione sprawled out, taking on her gryphon form like water flowing into a glass. She yawned beakily and ended with a soft eagle squeak before pounce and mock mauling Draco with her paws and beak.

Draco squirmed in her grasp and after a few moments, shifted, encircling her neck in his serpent form and seeking the warmth of her neck feathers.

Hermione padded over to Severus and flopped against him, wing-embracing him until he was nestled against her back. Little Vik popped his head out from her neck feathers and nestled back in between her and Severus with a sleepy chirp.

Cerberus, seemingly realising that he was missing out on the pile, sleepily crawled over to nestle between her talons and next to her warm belly fur, snuggling and slobbering upon her as he got comfortable. Hermione's talons gently curved around the sleepy pup as her eyes closed completely.

 


	55. Full Moon Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry defends his sandwich from a certain three-headed-pup.  
> Umbridge wants Lupin gone, and she knows exactly how to do it.  
> Moony teaches Cerberus the finer arts of being four-legged and have the ability to howl.

Chapter 56: Full Moon Shenanigans

"Nice of Snape to let you out of the castle today," Harry commented as he tried to fend Cerberus off his sandwich.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione said automatically, nudging the pup off his perusal of Harry's tasty sandwich.

Cerberus whined softly, tail wagging, all three heads poised in hopeful desire for Harry's somewhat smelly sandwich.

"Whatever are you eating, mate?" Ron asked, waving a bone at the pup, who, smelling the meat that was still on it, tackled it with a hearty "Rrrrrrrf!"

"Pastrami," Harry said, his mouth half full, taking advantage of the sandwich seeking pup's distraction.

"Though, really, 'ermione," Ron said. "How did you get out? Without an escort that is."

Hermione smirked. "As long as I'm not going anywhere near Hagrid's place, he doesn't mind where I go outside Hogwarts."

"Did Hagrid really… let you get crushed by his brother?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed softly, closing her eyes. Her body went still for a few seconds. "I wouldn't say he let me as much as… he didn't really think I was hurt."

"Since when is getting your ribs broken not really hurt?" Ron blurted.

Hermione smirked. "I don't know, Ron. I just know that… he has a really skewed idea of what is harmless, and until that point, I don't think I even realised just how skewed it was. He'd been our friend for five years, and… I thought that meant something. I was wrong."

"Wait, are you saying he's not your friend anymore?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm saying I don't trust him anymore, Ron. And honestly, I think the majority of what is bad about the Dark Forest was put there by Hagrid."

"Acromantulas," Harry said with a shudder.

"Especially those," Hermione said. "You said Aragog was spider that fled into the Dark Forest, right?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "He'd been raising him in a box in Hogwarts in secret until Tom framed him."

"So Hagrid not only raises a giant acromantula, he brought in a mate for Aragog that spawned Merlin knows how many baby spiders," Hermione said with a look of disgust on her face.

Ron didn't look all too thrilled by the mental picture.

"Ginny really misses you, 'ermione," Ron said randomly. "She's been all snappy and irritable since you moved."

Hermione looked sad. "I do miss having her to talk with. I don't miss her snoring though," said Hermione with a grin.

Ron sputtered and nodded. "Fred and George used to… um… float things above her mouth when she snored. Feathers… gummy worms, chocolate frogs, and the like. Mum hexed them until they couldn't sit for a week though when Ginny almost choked to death on a one of those fizzy wizard cola candies that are hard on the outside but have that sugar syrup stuff on the inside.

Hermione's and Harry's eyes went wide.

"I haven't seen Ginny in a while," Hermione said a bit sadly. "Not even to see the new three-headed miscreant."

Cerberus seemed to realise she was talking about him and bounded over and crawled into her lap.

"Cho had been trying to butter her up since the incident with Marietta Edgecombe," Ron said. "Trying to get to convince 'ermione to take the hex off Marietta's face."

Hermione froze and Cerberus growled.

"Cho tried to tell me that Marietta is a good person," Harry said. "And that she just made a mistake. We… kind of got into a row over it."

Hermione's expression changed into something more sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you were…"

Harry shook his head. "If she really thinks Marietta was innocent, then we probably weren't going to last," he confessed.

Cerberus whined and growled tackled Harry's knee.

"Ack! Ow… Merlin," Harry cried, fending the pup off his leg. "How did something so obnoxiously cute every grow up to be… Fluffy?" He loved on the pup until Cerberus lay on his back and wagged his tail, wriggling against him.

"The only person Hagrid raised him to trust was Hagrid," Hermione said solemnly. "That's usually the way it works."

"Yeah… Aragog," Ron muttered.

"If Hagrid really wants… everyone to believe his beasts are harmless, why does he make it so hard for anyone to do that? I mean look at what you've done with this guy in a few days. Everyone loves him," Harry said as he pet Cerberus on one of his heads.

"Everyone except Umbridge," Ron chuckled.

"Maybe you should teach Care of Magical Creatures, 'mione," Harry said with a chuckle. "You'd have people lining up to—"

"Oh no," Hermione said, flailing her arms. "I do not need or want Hagrid's job." Cerberus barked, wriggling against her, licking under her jaw. "Contrary to what this three-headed menace believes."

Harry grinned at her. "He looks a little different. Cerberus, I mean. He has a red tummy and black fur. Is that why Hagrid didn't recognise him?"

"We fed him bit of a potion that Neville accidentally made," Hermione said with a grin.

"The one that turned his hair red for… bloody hell it never wore off," Ron recalled. "Dumbledore made Snape make him a counter potion."

"Hnn," Hermione grunted. "Turned out to be the one useful accident Neville did that term. Had to tweak it a little to be stable."

Harry waved his hands. "Don't even start. It's bad enough you can spew random potion factoids now that put what you used to spew randomly to shame."

Hermione gave him a hurt expression. Cerberus growled at Harry, leaping at him, toppling him over onto the green as he snapped at Harry's face.

Hermione stood, staring down at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her outer robe swished behind her like a flag in the wind. She sniffed, the corner of her mouth curved into a sneer of disdain. The expression was achingly familiar.

"I'm sorry!" Harry pleaded as three large snarling puppy heads exposed their teeth at him. "I take it back!"

Suddenly, Hermione clicked her tongue, and the three headed pup heeled to her leg, staring up at her adoringly. There was a smug grin on her face as the warm mischief flickered across her eyes as her hand patted him on each head.

Harry sputtered on the ground, pulling himself back up.

Ron snickered at him, shoving him back down, and Cerberus barked playfully, tail wagging.

Hermione made a gesture with her hand, and Harry found himself plastered in the grass one more time, this time with chocolate smelling puppy breath in his face and slurps over his face.

"Ahhhh!" Harry squirmed. "I relent! I bow to your power! AH!"

Hermione laughed, patting her leg, and Cerberus gave Harry a large triple slurp and returned to her leg, tongue lolling as he panted noisily. Hermione extended her hand to Harry, and he took it, pulling himself off the ground.

"'Ermione," Ron said. "When did you get so scary?"

Hermione placed her hand to her chest in a "who me?" gesture. "Whatever do you mean, Ron?"

"You turned a giant three-headed dog into a puppy," Ron moaned, "but the puppy is even more scary than his huge wizard-eating self."

Hermione tilted her head and grinned at Ron. "Technically, it was my Master's potion that gifted us with a puppy."

"Technicalities," Harry said, agreeing with Ron. "You're still scary."

Hermione closed her eyes, a grin spreading across her face. She looked them both in the eyes. "I have a wonderful teacher," she purred.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Umbridge had a problem. A very slobbery, three-headed problem.

Her latest bane of her existence, blessed by the Ministries of two countries, was sleeping in the middle of the corridor that led to Professor Lupin's office. She had a suspicion that Professor Lupin was hiding something. He was never around when she knocked on his door during full moon, and now that Dumbledore wasn't around to make excuses about his health, she had a good idea what his real problem was.

Her plan was to demand that he come to a meeting staged perfectly during the full moon, and she would be ready, with Aurors at the ready, to break the half-breed professor and keep him from teaching or getting a job anywhere in the Wizarding world.

The door to Lupin's office opened.

"Please thank Professor Snape for me, will you, Apprentice Granger?" Lupin said. "I appreciate his input on the conflicting histories in the curriculum.

"You are welcome, Professor Lupin," Granger said as she came around the corner.

The three-headed monster leapt up from his doze in the middle of the corridor and ran up to the girl's leg attentively.

"Hem, hem," Umbridge interrupted.

Granger and Lupin turned to regard the Headmistress.

"Yes, Headmistress?" Lupin said.

"I need you to attend a meeting with me tonight, Lupin," Dolores said with her head cocked in the air. "We need to discuss something of the utmost importance."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," Lupin replied. "This was my scheduled night off the schedule. I had made previous plans for the evening. I would be glad to attend any meeting you wish in the morning."

"No," Umbridge huffed. "It needs to be tonight. Say.. Ten o'clock, after my primary rounds are done. My office. Don't be late."

Granger and Lupin exchanged glances, making Umbridge smile at Lupin's discomfort.

Umbridge attempted to approach to look down at Lupin a little more thoroughly, but the three-headed pup stood stiffly, hackles raised as he growled softly.

Umbridge snorted and turned, heading back down the hallway.

Hermione and Remus looked at each other with solemn expressions, knowing whatever Umbridge was up to was nothing good.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Umbridge smiled as the clock turned to ten o'clock, knowing that Lupin would unable to make the mandatory meeting. She would have every excuse to dismiss him from the teaching staff and banish him from the grounds. Filthy half-breed.

As the Aurors sitting in her office waiting patiently, the kitten plates above them mewling and meowing at them, Umbridge sipped her tea comfortable in the knowledge that one less Dumbledore supporter and half-breed would be filling the halls of Hogwarts.

As a few minutes passed past the hour, her lips curved into a cruel smile, and she pulled out the paperwork in her desk drawer to begin the sacking of Lupin from the staff. She pulled out her quill and ink victoriously.

It was then, however, that a knocking rapped upon her door, and Lupin walked in. "So sorry, Headmistress. I was detained a few minutes due to a certain puppy that decided my leg was a chew toy." The thin and somewhat pale man walked fully into the room. His pant leg was ripped and damp with drool.

The Aurors eyed his leg with curiosity and exchanged glances. He was looking pretty human for a supposed werewolf on the night of a full moon.

Umbridge dropped her quill to the desk. "H…how are you even here?" she demanded. "I know you are a werewolf!"

Lupin blushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Headmistress. I know you told me to shave more often for appearances, but I just happen to be one of those genetically inclined to grow my 5 o'clock shadow before and after five."

The two Aurors chuckled at Lupin's humour, even though Umbridge looked ready to throw something.

"This is impossible," Dolores yelled. "I know you are a filthy half-breed. I know it!"

Lupin shifted uncomfortably in front of the audience. "Is that what this meeting is about, Headmistress? I assure you that while my parentage does make me a half-blood wizard, I am perfectly suited for teaching here at Hogwarts."

The two Aurors looked at Dolores with frowns. Her verbal expressions against half-bloods and half-breeds did not reflect well on her reputation in her capacity as Headmistress of Hogwarts. This, added to the growing stories against her done by the Daily Prophet, was making her seem quite fanatical and nutters in the eyes of the public.

Fudge had demanded that the Auror's Office send someone to Umbridge's side tonight to expose a great danger to the Wizarding community, but the only danger they could seem to find was having her in charge of teaching their community's children. Doubt was growing against Fudge's cabinet and supporters as well. Could people who were so obviously unstable be trusted to tell the public if You-Know-Who really existed or not, if they couldn't even be trusted with the education of their children? All they knew was, when they had to fill out their report of what happened tonight, it would definitely be… interesting.

Lupin walked over to the window where a large full-moon was beaming in through the open shutters. "It is a beautiful moon out tonight, I will admit, Headmistress. Perhaps you would wish to continue our meeting outside in the moonlight? I'm sure your Auror friends would appreciate the fresh air."

"Get out of my office!" Umbridge screeched.

"Ooookay then," Lupin said with widening eyes. He gave the two Aurors sympathetic looks and dashed back out the door and disappeared, just barely missed by a smashed teacup that hit the wall behind him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco smirked as he slipped into Severus' chambers.

"How did it go, Professor Lupin?"

Hermione sat by the fire, tea set out beside her as she waited for her Slytherin brother.

Draco Lupin laughed, his smile creeping across Lupin's face. "Perfectly," he purred

"Excellent," Hermione said with a grin. A howl came from deep within the Lair and three puppy-howls answered him.

Draco grinned even more. "I see someone is teaching our little three-headed menace how to howl like a wolf."

Hermione arched a brow in a very Severus manner. "Earlier Cerberus was teaching Remus how to play a properly weighted game of tug of war."

Draco practically choked on his tea, making "Lupin" seemed doubly awkward. "Who won?"

"Jury is still out," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Remus won a few, Cerberus won the rest. I blame the three versus one ratio."

"I suppose the teaching goes on regardless of the form of the werewolf," Draco snickered. His grey eyes were emerging through the mask of Lupin's body. Small waves of change shuddered through him, and after a few minutes, Draco was Draco instead of Remus Lupin. "Ugh, that never fails to feel strange."

"Think of Aleksander," Hermione chuckled. "He spends so many hours as someone else, I'm not sure he remembers what it feels like to be in his own skin."

Draco snerked. "He ever try to pull the wool over your eyes?"

Hermione snorted. "Never seriously." She pointed to her nose.

"Ever remember the time when you couldn't scent like a bloodhound?" Draco ribbed her, downing the last of the tea.

"Seems like forever ago," Hermione confessed.

Draco's expression was thoughtful. "Back in a time when we were sworn enemies."

Hermione looked back at him, half sadly. "Sometimes I wish Harry could know about you. The real you."

"Only sometimes?" Draco asked, a half hurt expression on his face.

"The rest of the time, I selfishly want to keep you a secret," she admitted. "Does that make me horrible person?"

Draco smiled at her. "A wonderful Slytherin."

"Hush you," Hermione scoffed.

"Your father is Slytherin," Draco said with sly grin on his face. "That means you can't even help yourself."

Hermione make a pffting sound between her lips.

"His genetics are eating away at your old Gryffindor life," Draco purred. "Soon, only the Slytherin will be left."

Hermione shoved Draco on the shoulder, laughing silently with her shoulders.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

"What?" Draco asked, noting her change of demeanour.

"Tomorrow, we have Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid," Hermione grunted.

"I thought you took all your O.W.L.s for the year?" Draco asked, eyebrow lifting.

"Severus thinks it would be good for me to keep my ear to the ground and my eyes on whatever Hagrid is up to, especially after what he's done so far this year," Hermione explained. "He's worried about what he may unintentionally do to his classes since he's preoccupied with the entire Grawp issue."

"Do you think he would actually try to get his class out looking for Grawp? Even with there being no Grawp to find… that's a recipe for disaster in the Dark Forest," Draco muttered. "The centaurs will at least consider students 'foals' and not treat them like adult interlopers on their territory, but there a nice handful of horrible things that have far less reason to be reasonable."

"Oh, like… a nest of Acromantulas?" Hermione snorted.

"Or the pack of werewolf-bred wolves," Draco said dryly.

"And at least one of Hagrid's old Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hermione added.

"How in bloody hell did Hagrid not get into trouble illegally breeding manticores and fire crabs together to make not just one… but many of those horrible things?" Draco snarled. "Isn't that a major offence against the Ban on Experimental Breeding?"

Hermione shrugged. "He put one into the Third Task for the tournament. I think he squeaked by on a technicality that he had created them for that purpose… and all the rest of them killed each other off."

"Except for the ones he set loose into the Dark Forest like it's some kind of refuse container for creature mistakes," Draco muttered. "I swear that's the only reason he's not been run up on charges with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. No one finds the evidence because he 'sets it free' into the forest."

Hermione looked to the ceiling and sighed. "He was a really kind-hearted hand and voice in my first two years at Hogwarts," she said softly. "Part of me doesn't want to let go of that, even while part of me wants to—"

Draco touched her arm. "It's not your fault that he doesn't value you as he should, Ari," he said softly. "I don't think he values anyone as much as he does the creatures he tends, and that includes Grawp. You don't really tie someone to a tree and drag them by force across the country against their will and really consider them a 'person' I think."

Hermione pulled Draco into a hug. "Sometimes, I just wonder if the reason I cannot connect with him is because I'm losing my humanity the more I'm at ease as being something other than human."

Draco shook her shoulders a little. "Ari, you haven't lost your humanity. If anything, being an animagus helps us realise how much remains to us, even when we are in the shape of something else. It's something I never understood as well as when I became one myself. The animal side has the instincts, but your humanity tempers the beast into something stronger than the animal alone. We become more because we have both living together. The human and the animal."

Hermione looked at Draco with warmth. "Since when did you become so philosophical, dear brother?"

"Since I started sleeping in a pile of mismatched animals on a regular basis and considering it normal," Draco said with a lop-sided grin.

Hermione let out a yawn and fell down on all fours, taking her gryphon form as smoothly as a bird took flight. Draco grinned at her and transformed as well, entwining around her neck feathers in his customary spot.

Hermione padded down the corridor into the store-room and veered off into the hidden Lair.

As the door closed behind her, she saw Cerberus sleeping against Remus, who was curled in the middle of the room cushion by the fire. Severus was perched on top of Remus, eyes half closed as he hooted a soft owlish greeting.

Hermione gave a soft eagle chirp and settled in behind Remus, snuggling into his back. Severus talon-stepped over to her back and settled there as she flipped her wing out over Remus and the puppy. With a wide yawn of her own, she snuggled into the pile and closed her eyes.

Full-moon mischief managed.


	56. Class Evaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid teaches his class about thestrals.  
> Umbridge is on a mission to get Hagrid sacked, if only she could find him.

Chapter 56: Getting Lost in the Woods

"What do you think he's keeping in the Dark Forest? Did he say?" Harry asked quietly as Hermione met them on the landing overlooking the path to Hagrid's place.

Hermione had trudged a path through the two feet of snow that had decided to descent upon the landscape in a successful attempt to obliterate the sense of spring that had been trying to make itself known for the past month.

Cerberus was leaping in the snow to heel to her leg, but the snow was making the pup sink all the way to his ears. The pup whined and barked, trying to keep his heads above the snow.

"Snow after Easter?" Ron moaned. "What is going on around here?"

The trail of tracks Hermione had made had the distinctive drag of her outer robe and cloak across the snow as well as the treads of her dragon-hide boots. Hermione stood still in the snow, steam rising off her cloak and hair. Around her neck were two scarves. One her familiar bright scarlet and gold of Gryffindor, and one the green and silver of Slytherin. Somehow, and neither Ron or Harry could figure out how they had missed it, Hermione had acquired an owl. The darked plumed bird hooted softly, snow gathering on his feathers. The bird looked disgruntled, sitting on Hermione's shoulder like one of the owl shaped statuaries Harry remembered seeing in Muggle gardens to scare off pests.

"Eugh, Hermione," Ron said, pointing at her green scarf. "Why are you wearing that offensive thing?"

The dark owl turned its head to glare at Ron.

Hermione stared back at him silently. "I was cold."

"So?" Ron prodded her.

"I made the mistake of saying it out-loud in front of my Master," Hermione said, glaring at Ron to say anything further.

Ron's eyes grew wide and he wisely shut his trap. He looked down at the three-headed pup that was half-buried in the snow and saw each of his heads sported a small Slytherin scarf wrapped around each neck. It was disturbingly adorable.

The dark owl on Hermione's shoulder hooted, and she looked off into the distance for a moment. She nodded with an intake of breath, and the owl launched off her shoulder, flying back towards Hogwarts with a series of silent wing beats.

"When did you get an owl, Hermione?" Harry asked curiously.

"He's not my owl, specifically," Hermione answered with a smirk.

"Probably sent by Snape to spy on her," Ron muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron.

Hermione turned to Harry. "I have no idea what he's keeping out there," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, causing a bit of the gathered snow to fall off them. "He won't listen to my suggestion that he should keep to the lesson plans Professor Grubbly-Plank left on his return because he says 'no one would rather study knarls than chimaeras,' even when I warned him Umbridge was going to be coming down to observe today."

"Knarls are at least on our O.W.L.s," Ron said sullenly. "So are bowtruckles and Fire Crabs, according to Fred and George."

"And since Hagrid came back, we haven't even gone over anything that will be in our O.W.L. for Care of Magical Creatures," Harry complained.

"Knarls are easy, at least," Hermione said. "Just give the hedgehogs a spot of milk and the real hedgehogs will drink it happily. The knarl will try to destroy the enclosure."

"Not a milk lover?" Harry asked.

"They think you are trying to trap them, and they take it out on wherever they are. House, enclosure, etc.," Hermione explained.

"Oh," Ron commented. "That's troublesome."

Hermione smirked. "You'll be fine.

"Easy for you to say. You don't even have to take your O.W.L.s," grumbled Ron.

"Yeah, because she already took them," Harry nudged Ron with his elbow. "Did you forget that part somewhere between complaints?"

Ron slumped, having seemingly forgotten that entire Apprenticeship accreditation drama.

Cerberus growled and whined, placing his heads against Hermione's thigh and looking up at her hopefully.

Hermione scratched behind the pup's multiple sets of ears, gaining a flurry of happy licks and tail wagging.

"How are Crooks and Cerberus getting on?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering that Hermione was starting to have quite a collection of creatures following her around.

"Crooks bopped him on the noses to tell him his place and drove him off his favourite chair," Hermione said with a smirk. "They've been getting along famously since."

"What's his favourite chair?" Ron asked curiously.

"My Master's armchair by the fireplace," Hermione said without changing expression.

Ron's eyes got wide again and he swallowed hard. "That half-Kneazle has balls of iron."

Hermione smirked, not bothering to tell Ron about how Severus had lost his favourite armchair to Crookshanks, had a miniature Hippogriff chronically nesting in his parchments and scrolls on his writing desk, and a multi-species pile-up that occurred almost every night in the Lair.

The three of them worked their way back down the path that Hermione had already started earlier, trying not to trip on the hidden stones under the snow. Cerberus bounded back the way he came, a little faster the second time around due to the path being blazed for him. His dark black fur marked his leaping in the contrasting white snow.

They arrived at Hagrid's place a few minutes later, huffing in the cold air. Cerberus' enthusiastic bounding in the snow brought him into a collision with Hagrid's large leg, and the pup bounced off of him with a yelp.

Hagrid turned around to eye the pup, and Cerberus stared up at him, all three sets of eyes and noses working to assess the half-giant.

"Oh hey," Hagrid said cheerfully. "I once 'ad a pup like you. 'E was a bit more brown in the fur though…" he reached down to give the pup a pat, but Cerberus growled backing away from the half-giants large hand. Hagrid pulled away. "'E didn't much like being petted either. Took me a few bites before he got over it."

Cerberus gave another set of growls, but then trotted over to Hermione and sat down, slamming his heads against her thigh for attention. Hermione soothed the pup's ears with her fingers, proving that while Cerberus didn't want pets from Hagrid, he surely wanted pets from her. After buttering up Hermione for a share, he proceeded to work on Harry and Ron by wedging himself in between them. One head worked exclusively on Harry, one on Ron, and the one in the middle whined and alternated between both of them.

"Sometimes I miss ol' Fluffy," Hagrid admitted, "but 'e was getting too 'ild to 'andle. Even for me. As a pup, ya could just pin 'im down and settle the dispute, but as 'e got bigger… it was harder. You'll be having your hands full with that one when he starts getting huge."

Hermione lifted a brow. She, Severus, Draco, Viktor and even Remus had no problem getting Cerberus to respond to voice checks and hand signals. The pup seemed to want to please more than anything

"What happened to Fluffy, Hagrid?" Harry asked carefully. Surprisingly, Cerberus did not even twitch an ear to the old name.

"I set 'im free in the woods," Hagrid said. "'E's out there, chasing that strange blue car to his 'earts content. Only time I had to move 'im is when he started attacking the acromantula nest. Wouldn't leave 'em alone, 'e wouldn't. Killed a few hundred of Aragog's children before I could stop 'im. 'E kept eatin' 'em up. Was worried he'd try and eat up ol' Aragog or his mate."

The trio exchanged glances that clearly asked "how is this a bad thing?"

Umbridge hadn't made her appearance yet, and for that, the trio was exceedingly grateful. Hagrid moved to the side of the forest as people started to arrive. His body, at least, looked more healed from his being thrown around by his half-brother, to which Hermione was grateful. One less thing Umbridge could dock him for.

Sadly, what relief she had was ruined, when Hagrid went over to the side of his hut and heaved half a cow carcass over his shoulder. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in automatic response. "We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called out to the approaching students. He gestured to the Dark Forest with his head. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark…" (OotP 445)

"Careful, Ari," Draco signalled to her as he approached from the hill, Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "Your father is showing."

Hermione straightened and made herself look appropriately disgusted at Malfoy's approach.

"That's better," he signalled to her with a smirk, and Hermione gave him a small smile before hiding it away under her mask of disdain.

"What prefers the dark?" Draco called in a sharp voice over the sound of the crunching snow, his voice riddled with unease. "What did he say prefers the dark—did you hear?"

"Ready now?" Hagrid asked cheerfully, looking around to see if the entire class had assembled. "This'll be a rare treat for you all," he gushed. "We're pretty lucky to h ave 'em here on the grounds so close to Hogwarts, and I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in the country who's managed to train 'em."

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" Draco asked with both sarcasm and worry in his voice. It didn't take a expert to recall the effect "training" had done in Draco's injury at the talons of Buckbeak, even if had provoked the hippogriff on purpose.

All of the students seemed to mutter agreement at this, for once the Gryffindors looked perfectly able to share opinions with the Slytherin.

Hagrid, either intentionally or obliviously, trudged the way into the Dark Forest, carrying the dead cow over his shoulder like he'd carry a backpack. No one seemed overly enthusiastic to follow him.

The trio sighed at each other and took off after Hagrid, reluctantly leading the way to follow. Cerberus, excited to go on another adventure, bounced at their heels.

The snow in the forest, at least, was less deep, making their trudging less of a chore. They walked for a good ten minutes or more before Hagrid deigned them stop. The trees were really closely clustered together, making the dark and gloom of the forest seem to be be especially so. The snow did not grace the ground in this area, the closeness of the trees having shut out the precipitous white substance like a roof and closed windows.

Hagrid grunted, throwing the cow carcass on the ground, stepping back and brushing off his coat. He turned to the class with a smile that did not match the fact he had just thrown a dead cow on the ground like a sack of potatoes and treated it with the same casual regard.

Cerberus sniffed the air eagerly, the smell of the cow exciting him.

Hermione signalled him to sit, which the pup did so. She pulled out a bundle from her robes, tapping it with her wand. The huge ham hock was heavy in her hands as she deposited it in front of the hungry pup, distracting him from the cow carcass. Cerberus licked her hands gently before tearing into the ham hock with all three heads, each head bickering with each other slightly as one head got too close to the others' claim on the hock. The last thing she wanted was Cerberus going to chow down on a dead cow carcass in front of the entire class, but she had to admit, at this moment, it did smell awfully tasty to her gryphon self. A little mild in the scent compared to a fresh deer or a nice wild hog, but freshly killed dead prey items were still freshly killed dead prey items to a hungry gryphon.

Even before Hagrid made a very odd shrieking sound that echoed through the forest like the call of some ancient prehistoric beast's utterance, Hermione sensed they were being approached. She flicked her eyes over to Draco. "Thestrals," she signalled.

"Great," he answered. "As if most of these blokes will even be able to see them."

Hermione closed her eyes. Draco was right. How was Hagrid going to teach a bunch of fifth years who probably hadn't even thought of their own mortality about thestrals who couldn't be seen by those who hadn't seen death up close and personal?

Silver eyes were glowing in the gloom, approaching, and the skeletal forms of the thestrals slowly walked into the area with silent hoof beats. "I looked, and beheld, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him," Hermione whispered. (Revelations 6:3) The thestrals were far from pale, and Hermione knew if she touched one, their bodies were would warm and full of life, but she could not help but remember the often quoted passage that described Death's horse. Thestrals seemed to be both living and dead. Their appearance looked like something that should be dead, but she knew, they were far from it.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Just a quote from Muggle scripture," Hermione said softly.

Harry and the rest of the students looked around nervously, but it was clear that the majority of them could not see them.

Hermione looked over to Draco. "Make some mist for me," she signalled.

"Coming up," Draco answered, scratching his head as if he were the most bored person on Earth.

Draco's mist was gliding in, making the clearing seem even more spooky. The temperature was rising with the arrival of the mist, contrasting against the cold that had allowed the snow.

Hermione closed her eyes and silently asserted her will over the area they were in, wandlessly securing a variation of the detection ward Severus had drilled into her at the tender age of twelve. Draco's mist combined with her wards and swirled around the arriving thestrals, making the areas they occupied show up in the mist, their bodies, while still invisible to those that had not seen death, at least showed up in the gloom by the presence of the void they created.

Gasps spread around the clearing as the students suddenly realised they were not alone. Harry looked around the clearing with wonder, watching the outline of the thestrals surrounded the cow carcass. Pieces of meat floated in the air and disappeared.

"Nice one," Draco smirked as he signed.

"Thanks for the mist," Hermione replied, leaning against the tree.

Draco put on his bored expression as he overlooked his fellow Slytherin. One of his House was hiding behind Goyle but peering out at the thestrals with a look of horror on his face.

Parvati was looking a bit terrified, especially now that she could see the outline of the animals in the mist.

"Excuse me, Professor," Draco drawled. "What exactly are we seeing?"

"Thestrals!" Hagrid said happily. "Hogwarts has a whole herd of 'em 'ere."

"Why would Hogwarts want a herd of invisible horses?" Parvati squeaked. "Aren't they unlucky bad omens? Like a Grim!"

"Th'as ju' superstition," Hagrid admonished. "They aren't bad omens. They're quite clever an' quite useful! Who do ya think pulls the carriages back and forth from Hogwarts to 'ogsmeade?"

Whispers and mutters spread around the class as they realised the horseless carriages were not quite as horseless as they thought.

"Who here can see them?" Hagrid asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the mists were allowing the entire class to see where they were. Privately, Hermione wondered what death Hagrid had seen that allowed him to see them. She knew why she and Draco could see them. They had done their own share of killing to protect Harry while he was off doing the third trial of the Triwizard Tournament.

Vik chirped a warning from her hair and Hermione narrowed her eyes. She make a clicking noise with her tongue and Cerberus came to alert… well two out of three heads came to alert. The middle head was still gnawing on the remainder of the ham hock enthusiastically. "Umbridge is coming," she signalled to Draco.

Draco nodded grimly as Hermione stepped into the gloom and disappeared into it, Cerberus hot on her heels.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Protect. Defend.

These were instincts so deeply buried in her psyche that to take them out of herself would remove the very core of her being. She knew this. Her being a gryphon was only confirmation of her soul, perhaps. One aspect of a whole whose names only began with Hermione Granger and ended somewhere far more complicated. Her Patronus, on the other hand, was another aspect of herself… her unshakable bond with her father and Master. The hippogriff hiding in her neck feathers was a connection to Viktor and her Sky Brothers who offered her the kind of acceptance she had never had until meeting them, even amongst the trio. And the silent language that she shared with Draco was yet one more reflection of the intimacy between herself and her brother in all but blood. These larger parts were joined by the smaller pieces to the whole: the trio, Remus, Sirius, Minerva… even Hagrid. All of these things boiled down to protecting and defending what mattered to her: family and friends.

Hermione was on all fours, slinking across the ground with her paws and talons making barely a whisper of sound. Her wings were pinned to her side as though she were stalking prey, and perhaps, the comparison was not so far from the truth. In her mind, Dolores Umbridge was not respected, and what was not respected was prey. She could blame this on the gryphon inside her, but she knew that the gryphon was her. Hermione viewed what she did not respect as prey because she was both a witch and a gryphon and the enemy and prey of one was the enemy and prey of the other, no matter how much she used to try and compartmentalise the human from the beast. They were one in her soul, and she was one with herself.

Cerberus, lay down beside her, belly to the ground, mimicking her movements and quietness instinctively. He pressed up against her for reassurance, but the three-headed pup seemed connected to Hermione on a primal and instinctual level. For whatever reason, he looked to her, Severus, and her "pack" to learn how to be a proper three-headed dog, and she was grateful that the ex-Fluffy was given a new chance to improve upon himself.

Hermione watched Dolores Umbridge attempt to storm through the Dark Forest like she was entitled. If a gryphon could sneer, she would have done so. Instead, she lifted her head and scented the air, tasting it for Dolores state of mind and mood. Cerberus lifted his heads and tested the air as well, deciding that if Hermione needed to do it, that he should be doing it too.

Dolores's scent was laden with horrible floral perfume, making it harder to detect her actual mood, but must easier to trace her location. Hermione watched her follow the path blindly, not even paying attention to where it was going only that it was going somewhere.

Hermione crept up ahead of the trail and hid herself in the thicket, lowering herself into the leaf litter, her wing cast slightly over Cerberus to hide his very black hide. The pup snuggled up next to her, nuzzling into her wing, but flattened himself down to the ground as much as he could. Hermione let out a low rumbling growl, pitched so low that it made the leaves around her shake. Part of her knew that some of it Umbridge would not even hear, but she would feel it. A part of her would sense her presence, but be unable to recognise it for what it was.

Umbridge looked around suddenly, halting in her steps. She pulled out her wand.

Hermione, if she had teeth, would have exposed them in her disgust. Reliance on wands seemed like a weakness to the predator. Wands would only help you so much. Instead, he clacked her beak together, making a chattering sound, then loosed another growl then moved into another thicket.

Umbridge, as predicted, pointed her wand towards the previously abandoned thicket and started flinging stunning spells.

So this is how she dealt with the unknown. Shoot first and ask questions later. How shallow.

Hermione nudged the pup beside her with her elbow, giving off a soft growl. Cerberus let off three separate growls and then layered them together, filling the area with his triple voice. Hermione grinned to herself, retreating to another location, the pup following her.

Umbridge started flinging spells again. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice wavering.

Cerberus licked her chin, and Hermione set her head down upon the pup. For a puppy, he was doing very well. He had a drive to please and the will to be patient, which was pretty amazing for a puppy. Even in comparison to his older self, he was light years ahead. It made her wonder just how much of old "Fluffy" was created by horrible socialisation. It didn't take too much wondering to come to a conclusion, unfortunately.

Hermione placed her talons over Cerberus and gave a soft rumble. Stay still, she thought at him, unsure if the pressing of him into the ground would get her point across. She took off into the brush quietly until she was a quite a bit away, then starting making as much noise as possible. Growling, slamming into branches, running through the undergrowth, and making an unearthly keening noise, Hermione ran circles around Umbridge, driving her deeper into the forest in the wrong direction.

Umbridge, blasting in many directions, was getting more and more freaked out, and her aim was getting more and more atrocious, but Hermione's goal, to get her off the path, was soon realised. And since Hermione wasn't using magic, there was nothing to trace. Unlike Umbridge… who was leaving a trail of magic as bright as one of Fred and George's Whiz-Bangs. Umbridge seemed to be getting tired, however, as her variety of spells ended up coming down to chains of stupefies.

By the time Hermione stopped, hunkering down in a concealing thicket, Umbridge was out of breath, covered in leaf litter and branches, sweating, and looking like she was about ready to cry. Perfect.

Rustling was coming from another direction, and Umbridge finally had enough and cast a slew of stunning spells in the direction of the sound.

Hagrid stood in the middle of the pathway, leading the way back towards Hogwarts, his many students behind him. The stunning spells had hit him squarely, but thanks to his half-giant lineage, he just shook them off with a confused look upon his face. Unfortunately, three of the students that had been following too close to him were now flat on their backs in the leaf litter, stupified. Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson were the latest victims of Umbridge's flurry of spell casting. The rest of the class slowly peered out from behind various trees, looking terrified.

"Uhhh…er…" Hagrid said as he peered at the dishevelled Headmistress and High Inquisitor and the three Slytherin students that were laying on their backs. "Is there something I can help ye with?"

Umbridge's face was as red as a radish. "No you cannot," she hissed, turning on her heels and storming down the path in the opposite direction.

"But, Headmistress," Hagrid protested. "The path to 'og—"

Umbridge had already taken the trail and disappeared.

"… The path to Hogwarts is this way…" Hagrid said with a sigh. "Well… might as well get these three back to 'ogwarts. Not sure why the Headmistress was flinging stupefies around, but at least that's all she was flinging."

Hagrid slung Parkinson and Goyle over his shoulders. "'Ould you stay here with him until I can come back with him, Draco?"

The other students looked at him with sympathy, but Draco just sneered. "Fine."

The rest of the class followed Hagrid down the path back towards Hogwarts.

As the last of the class disappeared, Hermione stood up and walked over to where Draco was, giving a soft chirp of greeting.

Draco stared down at Crabbe's unconscious form laying in the dirt. "I know there is a spell to counter stupefy, but alas… I don't think I was paying attention during class that day." He laid his hand on Hermione's head and soothed her feathers.

Hermione took Draco's hand in her beak and mouthed it playfully.

Draco grinned at her. Hermione chirped and padded off back into the woods to fetch the hiding pup.

Cerberus bounded out to greet her, tail wagging, and faces nuzzling under her chin. She changed back into her human form and scooped him up, loving on him mercilessly. "You did so well, my darling menace," she cooed.

He wagged his tail and slurped under her chin at her tone.

By the time she made it back to where Draco was still standing over Crabbe's stupefied body, Cerberus stepped onto Crabbe's chest and jumped up and down to put his paws on Draco's legs and greet him.

Hermione failed at holding back a snicker as the pup's enthusiasm gave Crabbe's ribs a bit of abuse.

"What did you do?" Draco signalled silently.

Hermione grinned at him as he loved on Cerberus. "Didn't even touch her."

Draco smirked at her. "Lucky she didn't throw unforgiveables," he signalled.

"If she had, I would have moved her away further," Hermione replied, yawning as she made motions with her fingers. "Would be pity if paper found out," she added, signalling.

"I have travel parchment and quill," Draco gestured with a sly look.

"Oh, I seem to have a hippogriff," Hermione signalled, pointing to her hair.

"Excellent," Draco motioned, pulling out the parchment and quill.

Hermione's grin grew ever larger as she pulled Vik out from her hair.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Sleep time. Big exam on Tuesday, so tomorrow is going to be all about studying my face off. Wish me luck, folks!


	57. Seek and Ye Shall Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filch wants to search for Umbridge.  
> Minerva reads Hagrid the riot act.  
> Severus is tasked with rescuing the PITA Umbridge.

**Chapter 57: Seek and Ye Shall Find**

Spring came in like it did before, only this time quite a few people were dubious as to how long it would remain so. The whomping willow, who had already started to bud and bloom, seemed reluctant to shake itself off rather than incur more snow upon itself, giving the area a snow covered spring for the second time that season.

Hagrid's class with the thestrals went surprisingly well thanks to the class actually "seeing" there was something there, even if not all of them could make out the details. Umbridge, however, never made it to the evaluation. In fact, she never made it to dinner, or breakfast, or lunch of the following day. If she did manage to make it back for dinner the next day no one saw her enter or leave the Great Hall. It was around this time that some murmurs of concern rose amongst the staff caused by Argus Filch.

Filch, who never seemed to have stanch allies among any of the staff, had been the only one who showed Umbridge any modicum of respect or support, even after she was caught screaming at him in the halls. It was Filch that brought up the rather loud comment in front of countless students and the staff at the High Table that Umbridge was missing and something should be done. He started yelling, "People should go out looking for her!" and "Why wasn't anyone concerned?"

While the staff were not exactly enthusiastic about being shamed into concern for another human being, some would argue it would have been much easier if she was human to begin with. Even so, shamed as they were for having little concern over Umbridge's going missing, an official search party had to be formed. Filch, of course, wanted to head his own party, saying he didn't trust anyone else to go looking for her, but when he went missing looking for her on his own before a party could even be decided upon, the opinion changed from lacklustre support for a search to something more inspired. Filch wasn't well liked, but no one truly wished for his death out in the Dark Forest.

The amount of staff willing to brave the Dark Forest for any reason, however, was another matter altogether. The Dark Forest had a reputation that preceded it, and the fact it had gained the status of being forbidden did not help its reputation in the slightest. Notwithstanding the peace treaty with the centaurs, safety in the Dark Forest was a deep concern. Albus, as far as any faculty knew, was the only one who had brokered a treaty with the centaur to enter their territory, and non of the other regular Hogwarts staff felt safe just barging into the forest with no idea where the territorial lines were. Severus kept his mouth shut during the debates, allowing the rest of the faculty to figure out what they wanted to do.

When Hagrid stood up and said that worrying about the treaty status was rubbish and that the centaur weren't going to hurt anyone no matter who they sent, Minerva pointed out that while the centaur were not ones to attack children, adults were another matter altogether. Adults were expected to respect their territory, and no professor could just waltz into their territory like it didn't matter and expect them to treat them with any respect in return. Hagrid argued that the forest belonged everyone, but Minerva stood her ground, stating that Hagrid may be able to go anywhere in the world without having to worry about being stared at and treated like something less than human, but the centaurs had only the forest, and Hagrid should remember that before he went off on the ways of creatures who had been roaming the Old Forests for far long than either of them had been alive.

Minerva glared across her spectacles at Hagrid and asked him, "What has you so eager to discount the centaurs' claims of territory in the Dark Forest, Hagrid? Do you think so little of the children in this school that you would risk their lives so wantonly over a territorial dispute?"

Hagrid, unwilling to disclose his real reason for wanting to consider the Dark Forest a place beholden to no one, wisely looked down and yielded to the elder witch's ire.

Minerva asked for volunteers to parlay with the centaurs for permission to search the forest for their missing staff, no one seemed very enthusiastic about volunteering, save Hagrid. Minerva finally gave him a scroll to give to the leader of the centaurs, but Hagrid returned before nightfall, battered and bruised, and the scroll unopened.

Even less people wanted to attempt parlay with Hagrid's return. It came to a standstill until Hagrid blurted at Snape that after Hermione had been carried away by the centaur, maybe she could do something since they seemed to favour her.

Snape's scowl across the High Table could have melted the candles by its molten heat alone.

"My office," Minerva said. "Now."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What do you mean Apprentice Granger was carried off by centaurs, Hagrid?" Minerva said in a voice that seemed more like a cat's growl than a human one.

Hagrid, who was taking his time to stare intently at his own beard, took in a breath. "I.. Uh… was just saying that since she er… had a little incident and the centaurs…"

"Rubeus Hagrid," Minerva roared at him. "You will tell me what caused one of my House and Severus' Apprentice to be carried off by centaurs for ANY reason that would make you think that she would have a better chance at parlaying with them than our Gamekeeper who is supposed to be on good terms with them and gets beaten up and sent back to us with our scroll ignored!" Minerva was smaller in stature than the half-giant, and even, technically, younger than Hagrid, but by no means on earth was she considered by anyone as being inferior to him, and at that very moment, Hagrid knew it. The universe knew it, and by all the Gods of Magic in world no one wanted to be on the receiving end of Minerva McGonagall's righteous fury.

Hagrid began to spew out his story in a long chain of blurting starting with the mission from Dumbledore and ending with him trying to introduce his half-brother to Harry and Hermione so they could keep him company when Hagrid was gone.

Minerva's face twisted into something that was seemingly carved out of stone, that is, if stone could be carved angry.

"You… dragged a full blooded giant across the country, stole him out from under his fellow giants, ruined a parlay that Albus sent you out there to accomplish, and then tied him up in the Dark Forest where he beat on you daily, tried to escape daily, and then… you stand by and idly watch as Hermione Granger gets practically crushed to death trying to save Harry Potter and then gets rescued by centaurs because you… YOU… were too busy trying to convince everyone that this… Grawp was 'HARMLESS'?"

Hagrid looked at his shoes. "It doesn' sound 'alf as good when you say it like that," Hagrid replied.

Minerva's shoulder shook with her effort to contain her own emotions. If the look on her face could have translated into power, Hagrid would have shrunken to the size of a raisin and been thrown into a jar, and she would have enjoyed batting the jar around as a cat.

"Albus may trust you with his life, Hagrid," Minerva said coldly, "but I assure you, I do not trust you with the lives of our students. You took an under-aged wizard and an under-aged witch, Apprentice or no, and dragged them into the Dark Forest and almost got them killed. One of them is Harry Potter, which, I'm not sure if you remember, but he's the one we've been trying to keep from getting killed since his parents died protecting him from You-Know-Who! "

"I have stood up for you more times than I can count, and I cannot even wrap my mind around how angry I am with you right now," Minerva seethed.

Severus was sitting in the chair in Minerva's office, his fingers steepled together as he enjoyed Minerva's wrath against Hagrid. There was nothing the elder witch was saying that he himself hadn't already thrown at him, but it seemed that getting dressed down by Minerva was having a greater effect on Hagrid than from himself. Fine by him, if it kept Hagrid in line. The chance that Albus would actually let Hagrid go on his watch was pretty slim, he knew, because Hagrid was too useful. Severus knew useful people never went far from Albus Dumbledore. If there was a chance, however small, that Minerva could actually influence Hagrid into being a little more conscious of student safety, he considered it rage well spent. It was also better that she be yelling at Hagrid than at him, because even with his Occlumency, he really didn't want the Wrath of the Scottish Witch raining down on his face.

"Get out of my sight," Minerva's voice broke Severus' musings. "I don't even want to catch a whisper of you with or without students going into the Dark Forest until we can get a successful parlay with the centaurs, and if I do, I swear to you faster than you can say cullen skink the last thing you'll have to worry about is Dolores Umbridge."

Hagrid fled Minerva's office faster than Severus thought the half-giant was capable of.

Minerva collapsed into her chair with a weary sigh, slamming her face into her hands as she rubbed her temples with her fingers. "Severus?"

"Yes, Minerva?" he answered.

"I'm presuming when you told me that you had to retrieve Hermione from one of Hagrid's pet projects, this was what you meant?"

"Yes," Severus said simply.

"As much as this grieves me," Minerva said. "I need to ask you if you can safely parlay with the centaurs and find Dolores as well as Filch." He held out the scroll.

Severus tilted his head slightly, closing his eyes for a moment before answering. "Yes," he replied. Nothing more.

"Please… find them, Severus," Minerva requested with a weariness that came from doing the right thing despite all common sense. "Hogwarts doesn't need two deaths on our grounds at a time like this… even if one of them desperately deserves it."

Severus stood to leave. He took the scroll from her hand without a word. The less Minerva knew about what he planned the better. It would keep her protected from accountability.

"Severus?" Minerva called to him as he was half out the door.

Snape froze in the doorway, half turning to her call.

"A life debt is a life debt," she said with a glint in her eye. "A suitable punishment, don't you think, for someone spending her life trying to punish half-bloods, half-breeds, and Muggles for being alive?"

Severus' lips quirked upward. "Be careful, Minerva," he purred. "People will say you've been hanging around Slytherins too long."

With that, Snape swept from the room, his robe swishing behind him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I feel dirty," Hermione admitted, her mind filled with guilt at the very thought of helping rescue Umbridge from… anything.

"This witch," Bane asked as he looked over the scroll Magorian had haded him. "She is…Headmistress to the school?"

"Only on paper," Hermione clarified. "The school itself, refuses to bow to her, even though the staff and students do due to obligation."

"Why serve one so obviously horrible?" Magorian asked as he read the scroll over Bane's shoulder.

"I think we've been asking ourselves that since she showed up," Hermione confessed.

Trefoil was latched onto Hermione's waist since she had landed in the camp, and Hermione smiled at her, grooming her coat with a soft brush.

Cerberus had made himself multiple friends in the short time she had reacquainted herself amongst the herd and done introductions. The pup was busy sniffing all of the centaur, memorising their scents and voices as he wandered about. He had attracted quite a following amongst the younger colts and fillies, while the adults seemed content to allow their children to do the loving upon him.

"When Hagrid came into our territory with that scroll, we drove him out," Bane admitted. "We did not even want to know what nonsense he was bound to deliver."

"I will admit, saving her seems to be the opposite of what we've been trying to do to her since she arrived, but…" Hermione closed her eyes. "My Master makes a good point."

"Saving her binds her in debt," Magorian said with a grim smile. "To the very kind she despises."

Hermione nodded. "A fate worse than death to one such as she."

"There is wisdom in it," Magorian agreed. "We shall assist." He jerked his head, and a number of the adult centaur walked out of the early morning gloom.

"Anything that brings discomfort to the Ministry that attempts to lay claim to our ancient territories is reason enough to assist," Bane snorted. His face softened as Trefoil clung to Hermione's waist. "Time for you to let go, little one."

Trefoil, much like her namesake, did not wish to let go. She clung to Hermione harder.

Hermione wrapped her arms around Trefoil warmly, stoking her mane that went down her back and smiled. "Don't worry. We'll be fine."

Trefoil groomed her hair with her hands, seeking the sort of reassurance from her had nothing to do with logic.

Hermione hugged her again and groomed her back, soothing her with physical touch until the filly's eyes seemed less wild and worried. Bane gently nudged her over with the point of his equine shoulder, and this time, the filly trotted away, albeit reluctantly.

Magorian smirked at Hermione.

A owl hooted from above them.

"We are ready, Owl Master," Magorian laughed. "No need to shout."

Hermione grinned and fell on all fours, shaking out her wings and fur with a rotation that started from her beak down to her tail tip and ended with an eagle chirp. Cerberus, hearing her chirp, bounded towards her, nuzzling up to her and licking her chin in eagerness. Hermione pinned the pup with her paw and preened him gently, releasing him shortly after. Part of her wished Draco would be there to join in, but she knew he was dealing with the aftermath in his own House of Umbridge's stupefying three members of his House and members of Umbridge's own Inquisitorial Squad. Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson's parents were not amused, and Draco was insuring, in the most Slytherin way possible, that they remained as unamused as possible.

Severus took off from the trees above, and Hermione's Sky Brothers, who had been silent and still during Hermione's conversation with the centaur, took off with him, fanning out over the forest in a spread formation.

Taking that as a signal, the centaur were on the move, bows at the ready, and Hermione ran along side them, with Cerberus keeping up beside her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Acromantula nests.

Of all the places Umbridge would stumble onto while she was blindly trying to find her way out of the Dark Forest, why would she find the one bloody acromantula nest in the entire forest?

Umbridge's sickly sweet perfume was strong enough to lead them all to the nest even without having sensitive noses, and judging by the two large cocoons that were undulating in the midst of the silken nest, Filch had actually tracked down Umbridge. Or perhaps, Mrs. Norris had, judging by the smaller cocoon beside the larger one.

"Smaller" acromantulas were starting to creep over the nearby tree litter, sensing possible future meals to cocoon. Smaller was a misnomer, by far, as the "small" acromantula was the size of a pony.

Hermione clacked her beak, waiting for Severus to decide on a course of action from above. She did not have to wait long, as her Master landed silently, taking on his human form, as all four of her brothers landed beside him in a swirl of their own elements.

Aleksander had out his wand and he went down on his knees and blew across the tip of his wand, invoking a ring of fire that surrounded them with a protective embrace.

The centaurs stomped at first, clustering close together, but realised soon after that the ring was for their protection rather than to prevent their action, set to work with targeting with their bows.

At first there was no movement. The wizards, witch, and centaurs stood off against the yet unmoving waves of spiders that were gathering in the gloom. The soft creaking of the forest and the muffled moans from the cocoons seemed deafening.

And then, one of the acromantulas leapt towards them, starting the wave moving, even as one of Bane's arrows slammed into it, pinning it to the nearby log. The game was on.

Spiders were leaping from all directions, some of them so eager to tackle what lay beyond the fire, that they forgot they were not immune to fire. Charred spider bodies rolled off into the gloom as their brothers and sisters leapt over them to attack.

Arrow after arrow sang in the air, slamming into their targets. The centaurs sent of flurries of arrows in between pinning their legs back and kicking many spiders in the face, bashing in their spider's tough exoskeletons with their equally hard hooves as the arachnids attempted to breach the flame barrier.

Valko swung his wand around as though conducting an orchestra. Rocks went flying off in various directions, some in waves and some as bolder projectiles. Stones pelted into the spiders, knocking them prone. Stones rained down from above, pinning them down. Boulders flung themselves at targets, smashing even more spiders against logs, trees, and the ground.

Lazar hissed as water shot out from his wand, using the flames of Aleksander's circle to superheat it and scald his targets out of the running. Those he did not scald, he drowned, encasing his enemies in bubbles of water that he squeezed down upon them with ruthless motions of his hands.

Petya created a cyclone that slammed into the waves of spiders, picking up the arachnids into its spinning vortex and then guiding the vortex over the other spiders, using the spiders' bodies against themselves. With a hiss of battle rage, Petya released the cyclone unto the spider nest, tearing the silken strands from their anchors and entangling the arachnids in their own nest.

As the battle raged on, Severus flew out of the ring of fire, and Hermione followed, grasping Cerberus in her front talons to carry him over the flames. She landed beside her master in her human form, and Cerberus flattened on the ground, growling at the nearby spiders with instinctual hate that transcended his smaller puppy form.

Spiders leapt at them and arrows, rocks, wind, and fire toppled them back. Those that breached the defences, however, were not safe. Severus sent spider after spider tumbling backwards, bleeding from a hundred different cuts. Hermione invoked her armour, and what she did not cut down with spells, she eviscerated with her claws, the enchanted metal slicing through the protected exoskeletons as though it were nothing but paper. Cerberus, even with his reduced size from his adult rampage, knew exactly what to do with a spider. He threw his smaller body at each arachnid with triple snarling wrath, biting into legs and ripping them off with machine-like efficiency. He was not some weak and inexperienced puppy. He was wrath incarnate, and every spider within his snapping jaw's range would feel the mark of it.

As they made it to the wiggling cocoons in the nest, Hermione used her armour talons to slice them open, exposing the weak and envenomed bodies of Umbridge, Filch, and Mrs. Norris.

Severus cast spells in rapid succession, levitating their bodies and flinging them out of the nest.

Petya cast winds around each, drawing them out and carrying them to safety, as Severus, Hermione, and one very irate three-headed spider-hating dog backed out of the nest as the second wave of spiders formed in order to attack them for their escaped meals. As Petya brought the trembling bodies of Umbridge, Filch, and Mrs. Norris into the circle of flames, Aleksander expanded the flames to give them room to lay their bodies down and still give the centaurs and spell casters places to stand.

Irritated spiders began to advance again, and Bane and his fellow warriors were ready. Arrows flew through the walls of fire, igniting as they went through and slamming into spider after spider. If they had any inclination to speak like their sire Aragog, they were not showing it. Their almost mindless advances as a horde seemed to prove that speech was something they did not value enough to engage in either at their age or their size, and mummy and daddy acromantula didn't seem overly inclined to help their brood that was under attack. Perhaps they figured they could just make more baby spiders.

Snape stopped speculating on the reproductive woes of the acromantulas as he inspected Umbridge and Filch. They were bitten in a number of places, but it looked as if they were being "left to tenderise" rather than killing them outright. Pity.

Whatever sympathy he may have scraped up for Umbridge's plight had left the moment he had seen his Apprentice bleeding out on Umbridge's office by her blood quills and was reinforced by constant reminders of what a horrible toad of a woman she was. Any sympathy he may have had for Filch had disappeared the moment he had decided to support Umbridge's ruthless abuse of the study body and crusade to sack any professor or staff that had any inkling of support for Dumbledore. Filch of all people had much to lose in a system where those such as Umbridge were in power. The moment he would have been less than useful, he would have been discarded in a manner so like the Dark Lord disposing of anything that displeased him: messily.

The last of the waves of spiders that seemed to believe it was worth attacking finally met their end by fire, stone, air, water, hoof, talons, and mauling. Bane gave a long snort of finality, putting his bow on his back as the other centaurs followed suit.

"Magorian," Snape said as he pulled out objects from his robe and enlarged them into two stretchers. "How public do you want your help to be?"

Magorian tilted his chin up. "I believe I speak for the entire herd in saying whatever makes their rescue more humiliating."

Bane snorted and tossed his head. "Agreed."

The rest of the centaurs glared down at the unconscious and dirty pink woman and the dishevelled looking man and his equally dishevelled cat.

The Bulgarians curled their lips and peered down at them with equal displeasure. Their loyalty to their pack and allies was supreme, but their dislike of the ones they rescued was far from concealed. They moved the two human victims onto the stretchers, lashing them to the poles to make sure they didn't fall, then set the limp body of Mrs. Norris onto Filch's stretcher.

Snape curled his lips with both distaste and venom. "Let's make this a grand show then, shall we, Magorian?"

Magorian met Severus' eyes with a glint of his own. "Tell me what you wish of us."

 

* * *

 

**Headmistress and High Inquisitor Umbridge Found After Attacking Three Innocent Students in the Woods**

Dolores Jean Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, better known as the most recent High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft who takes blood quills to children and the Headmistress that wants your brooms, has been found two days after assaulting the children of well known Wizarding families Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson with stupefies in the Dark Forest.

After receiving notice from Hogwarts that their children had been treated and released from the hospital wing after being hit with multiple stupefies while attending Care of Magical Creatures class with Professor Rubeus Hagrid, the families of Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson are demanding to know what reason could possibly be grave enough to have the Headmistress flinging spells out in the Dark Forest so carelessly that she would hit not only one, but three students as well as their teaching professor, who was thankfully able to shake off the effects and carry the students to safety. Each of these students are members of Umbridge's own self appointed Inquisitorial Squad, which this paper has researched to be the only extra-curricular organisation with more than two members allowed to meet at Hogwarts during Umbridge's reign. This Squad, apparently, has been in charge of enforcing "rules" upon the students of Hogwarts since the banishment of the previous Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, to whom Umbridge had accused of mutiny and sedition against Cornelius Fudge. Apparently, even the members of her own Squad are not safe from her spell-casting, as it has been proven by her most recent actions.

Minister Cornelius Fudge has not been available for comment on the matter, and his Office is not accepting owls from our most humble paper at this time.

Dolores Umbridge and Argus Filch were rescued from the depths of the Dark Forest by Master of Potions Severus Snape, his Apprentice Hermione Granger and the most honourable allies of Hogwarts, the centaur of the Dark Forest.

Arriving on stretchers on travois pulled by none other than the centaur themselves, Umbridge and Filch and his familiar have been delivered safely for treatment of their envenomation during their attack by acromantulas. Madam Poppy Pomfrey, matron and nurse of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stated that both Umbridge and Filch were going to make a full recovery, at least physically. The psychological damage due to being cocooned by giant spiders may have lasting effects that she cannot predict at this time.

The centaur, who have been under strain as of late from the Ministry of Magic in the taking of their ancestral territories, showed great strength of character and honour by assisting Professor Snape and his allies in searching for and rescuing Umbridge and Filch from the webs of what is apparently the only known local acromantula nest in Dark Forest.

Some speculation as to how acromantulas even found their way into the Dark Forest, as it is not their native habitat, has arisen, and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wishes to inspect the nest to evaluate the danger to students and staff being so close to Hogwarts. They have sent a messenger to parlay with the centaur for permission to travel the boundaries of their territory out of courtesy, and the centaur have agreed, signalling a newfound cooperation between the Department and centaur, who have often been mistakenly and rudely referred to as creatures with "near-human" intelligence. Okapi Mistweaver, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, stated that the classification of centaur as a "beast" especially after their heroic efforts to rescue Dolores Umbridge, a known supporter of the elimination of "half-breeds" and "beasts" from the Wizarding world, is completely irrational, and that the Centaur Liaison Office, which has remained unused by any centaur since its foundation, should be moved into its own category apart from beasts and beings, keeping centaurs unique as both the sentient and significant magical creatures they are. Their history, which can be found in stories dating back to Ancient Greek mythology, as well their most recent accomplishments, shall be stored there. The centaur have respectfully spoken of their appreciation to Okapi's own respect for their culture and history and are happy that he does not intend to intrude on their private lives or territories any more than to keep open a channel of communication to prevent the isolation that caused the classification errors that threatened the centaurs' shrinking territories.

Dolores Umbridge, at the time of this printing, is still in isolation under the care of Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts, and it is requested that all correspondence to her be directed to Umbridge's official office rather than her actual location due to the possible disturbances to the other patients in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Your kind consideration is much appreciated in this matter.

As for the matter of Umbridge's state of mind that caused her to stupefy three Hogwarts students during one of their classes, we are waiting for word of her release from her care under Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts in consideration of her most recent ordeal with acromantulas. Rest assured, dear readers, we will strive to get you the very best news and updates as it becomes available.

 

* * *

 

Viktor put down the paper and tossed it onto the nearby table. "Sound like you all have interesting last few days," he said with a snort of amusement.

"Great fun, drugar," Aleksander chuckled as he carried the roast out to the table.

"Indeed," Valko snickered. "You missed vonderful party after."

"Vhy you not mentioned in paper?" Viktor asked, eyebrow raised.

"We asked to be left out, brother," Petya explained. "Help reputation of centaur allies. Good for all of us that they are treated better."

Viktor nodded. "Da, good thinking."

"Besides," Lazar said with wiggled eyebrows. "We spent good few hours harvesting acromantula venom and fangs for shop. Vorth it."

Viktor tilted back his head and laughed whole-heartedly.

Hermione raised a brow as she walked into the room. "What did I miss?"

Viktor pulled her close to him, nuzzling her neck. "Just brothers being eternal opportunists."

Hermione wilted into him, enjoying his scent and touch after being away for enough days to miss him thoroughly.

Severus and Draco wandered in shortly after. Draco ruffled Hermione's hair as he went past, causing her to blush into Viktor's shoulder.

Viktor smirked, but pulled her against him closer before releasing her to find her seat.

Aleksander yelped as something with three heads and copious amounts of drool stared up at him after setting his multiple heads on his leg. "He's onto me."

"Best always to know where tasty food come from, brother," Lazar grinned at him.

"We do," Valko said in agreement. "Only logical dog does too."

Aleksander glared across the table, but even Severus was smirking at him. Aleksander sighed softly, reached over the table for the giant femur bone he had taken "most" of the meat off for their dinner and slipped it under the table.

Loud crunching and gnawing sounds came from under the table, causing everyone seated at the table to snicker at Aleksander.

"Vat?" Aleksander muttered.

"Vell trained, brother," Viktor chuckled.

"Psh," Aleksander grunted.

"How long do you think it will take Umbridge to realise she has life debts to you as well as some 'filthy half-breeds?'" Draco asked Severus.

Snape took in a deep breath and shrugged. "I'm not sure she is coherent enough to realise there is one, let along multiple strands to it. Poppy seems to think she's going to need some time to stop the screaming in her head."

"It would be… interesting to see her reaction when she finds out," Hermione said, rolling her eyes upward to stare at the ceiling. "The screaming might start up all over again."

Draco grinned. "I'll hand it to that old tabby," he chuckled. "She's pretty cunning when she sets her mind to it. Almost Slytherin."

"Don't let her hear you say that, dear brother," Hermione grinned at him.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"In the meantime, we can enjoy the next few days without Umbridge," Hermione said with satisfaction.

"Time well spent," Draco said with a nod.

"We'll see how long she lasts at Hogwarts now that she's hurt some of the pure-blood students," Severus said with a sly quirk of his lips.

"Sestrá said that woman already has howlers bursting into flames waiting for her to open them," Valko commented.

Severus smirked. "That is why the paper requested that all correspondence be sent to her office. A few of them burst into flames over Umbridge's hospital bed, setting the ward's privacy curtains and sheets on fire."

Draco, suspicious, leaned closer to his godfather. "How many is 'a few,' Severus?"

Severus rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if to stare at a cobweb. "Maybe a few hundred."

"Excellent," Draco said with amusement.

"Wait," Hermione interjected. "Her office isn't warded against fire, is it?"

Severus slid his eyes over to peer at his Apprentice, his dark irises held his amusement.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Her office isn't warded against anything, is it?"

Severus shook his head slowly, making the gesture look wonderfully elegant.

"Wonder how many letters sitting at office at Ministry," Viktor pondered, "setting desk on fire."

"Not enough, I can tell you that," Draco replied. "No one was more deserving to be playing guest to a bunch of hungry acromantulas than her. Even our most biased Slytherin aren't so eager to jump on her bandwagon anymore."

"That was some really good stirring up you did with Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkison's parents, Draco," Hermione purred.

"I'm just sorry I missed out on the fun in the forest," Draco pouted. "You and your brothers always get to play with your food while I'm doing boring subterfuge."

"Aww," Hermione placated. "Since when do you not like subterfuge?"

Draco pouted. "Since my sister gets to run around beating up acromantulas without me."

"Tell you vhat," Lazar purred. "Next time ve go harvesting acromantula venom. Ve take you."

Draco brightened. "You're on."

Severus shook his head as he passed the roast. "Eat, before the roast gets cold."

Smiles burst out around the table as the feasting began, and one three-headed menace that had once been the scourge to all things living, cheerfully relieved multiple wizards and a witch of their tasty scraps.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Bring Back Dumbledore, Rightful Headmaster of Hogwarts!

There is a movement stirring in the Wizarding educational community, ladies and gentle wizards. People are demanding to know why their children are still being threatened by the blatant terrorist of a Headmistress, Dolores Umbridge, who is masquerading under the banner of the Ministry and educational reform.

Parents are non-parents alike are protesting that if torturing students with blood quills, stealing their brooms, insulting their fine broom-riding heritage, forbidding students to gather in groups larger than two, and attacking students while they are in classes with stunning spells is the Ministry's idea of educational reform, that they will whole-heartedly support the return of the supposed "mutinous and seditious" Albus Dumbledore, who in the past few decades of his reign as Headmaster of Hogwarts, never had such controversial tactics in getting students to be students.

People are demanding to know the truth about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named's return, seeing as the Ministry seems to be spending more time and funds torturing our children and the professors that teach them than admitting to the truth of the matter. After the Dark Mark hung in the skies over the Quidditch World Cup, questions should have been asked when the answers did not add up. Muggle families are being killed, seemingly at random, yet every one that has been under attack has been the Muggle families of witches and wizards of our community. Coincidence, dear readers? Can we afford to be so blind?

After the false-imprisonment of Sirius Black and the capture of Death Eater Peter Pettigrew as well as Barty Crouch, Jr., the truth is right in front of us, despite what the Ministry wishes to tell us. After Death Eater Igor Karkaroff apparated into a room full of meeting Aurors only to be followed by a dozen "fellow" Death Eaters intent on murdering him for his betrayal after the first Wizarding War, the questions that we should be asking our Ministry is, why are they so intent on denying the danger that is rising? When Death Eaters are not even safe from their own, how can the innocent evade their dangerous mechanisations?

If Albus Dumbledore's only crime has been to raise the concern that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has returned, then we here at the Daily Prophet think that he needs to be reinstated as Headmaster to our most honourable school of witchcraft and wizardry. Order and stability need to be brought back to noble Hogwarts, before the entire school is hit with stunning spells in the name of "educational reform." I'm sure I'm not the only one out there asking what, exactly, the Ministry means by "educational reform" if it means harm to our children!

Attempts to reach the Minister of Magic's office has been declined. The Auror's office, however, has been forthcoming that multiple requests at the behest of Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge for their presence at Hogwarts multiple times for the purpose of everything from the banishment of Albus Dumbledore from the Headmaster's position to the potential sacking of other of the teaching staff for various "odd" reasons that could never be confirmed.

The Auror's office confirmed, after pressure from discovery of other suspicious summons on their office, that they had been scheduled to revisit Hogwarts next week in the dark of night to assist in the sacking of Care of Magical Creatures Professor Rubeus Hagrid, whom was hit with multiple Stunning Spells along with his students by none other than Dolores Umbridge as they were returning to Hogwarts after a class session. It sounds like Umbridge is the one who needs to be sacked, and perhaps that spotlight needs to be shown on Cornelius Fudge and his cabinet, whose mechanisations seem to be covering up far more dangerous things than the teaching methods encouraged by Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, as of this printing, is still unreachable thanks to prosecution by Minister Fudge's office, who has not retracted the accusations and charges against the currently ex-Headmaster nor given any additional details as to why they have not.

Bring back Headmaster Albus Dumbledore to Hogwarts before the entire educational system falls on its arse!


	58. Centaurs? They DO exist!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mop-up tending of victims in the Hospital wing.  
> Hagrid introduces the centaur to his class.  
> Hermione and Firenze have a heart-to-heart.

**Chapter 58: Centaurs? They DO Exist!**

As Severus gazed into the infirmary, he was convinced that between his ability to stare blankly into the eyes of the Dark Lord and suffer his tortures, he was equally able to suffer a disgusting amount of concentrated cuteness.

Hermione was spooning soup laced with medicine into Filch’s mouth. Cerberus was laying all three of his heads on the side of the bed to stare at Mrs. Norris, who was growling in her own hysteria. On top of Cerberus’ middle head, Little Vik was perched, chirping sweetly. Filch, with his leg left leg in traction and his arms propped up and bandaged on the sides of the bed, was in no condition to feed himself, which left him helpless to yell at Hermione, who was his only way to get food.

Cerberus’ tail was wagging furiously, save the times when Mrs. Norris tried to move, at which point his tail would freeze and all of his heads would growl at her. The cat, wisely, did not attempt to do anything foolhardy, like attempt to move. While it looked like Filch wanted to say a great many things, every time he looked like he was about to, Hermione bought another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

Little Vik seemed perfectly content to sing sweetly away from atop Cerberus’ head.

When all of the medicine laced soup was gone, Hermione stood, her black robes fell about her in the familiar drape of her Master. She stared down at Filch with an impassive face as she placed the empty bowl and spoon down on the nearby bed table.

“It is important that you rest, Mr. Filch,” Hermione said softly, her voice taking on the quality of neutrality. “The medicine is counteracting the venom from the spiders, but the less you move, the faster your recovery. My Master says that you must try to remain still as best you can.” Hermione was speaking, but her voice had changed into something official. It was the voice of the Apprentice in deference to her Master. There was no doubt to whom she bowed her head, and it was not to Filch.

Hermione’s brown eyes met Filch’s, unwavering and unflinching. It seemed as if Filch was staring at her with either newfound respect of fear or some combination in between. Even Mrs. Norris, who had always seemed to have some level of disdain for any of the students, hunkered down on top of Filch’s stomach and was still.

Cerberus licked Hermione’s hand and she patted the pup absently, pausing to stroke Vik’s wings with affection as well. The little hippogriff seemed as grateful as Cerberus, making an almost purr like sound at her touch.

Hermione turned and walked towards Severus, extending the vial of medicine he had given her earlier.

“Is that the anti-venom?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she approached from the back. “Thank you for administering it while I was tending the patients in the back. This year has brought so many to the hospital wing.”

Hermione raised her head and her lips curved upward. “It was no trouble,” she said with a small smile.

Severus extended the vial to Poppy and she took it with a large smile.

“A few more days, and the worst will be behind them,” Pomfrey said. “It was good you found them when you did. Another day out there and they may have had nerve damage.”

Cerberus looked up at Poppy with curiosity, his noses working as he attempted to make an assessment as to her nature.

“Oh, and who is this?” Poppy cooed. “This must be Cerberus! May I?”

Hermione nodded, silently signalling to Cerberus that Poppy was to be accepted.

The pup needed no more encouragement and hopped up to place his paws on her knees and look up at her happily, tail wagging.

Poppy stroked his ears on each head, making herself an instant friend. “Such a charmer, this one,” she cooed. “He must get it from Severus.”

Severus’ eyebrow shot directly into his hair as his eyes gave Poppy a sidelong glance.

Poppy grinned at the pup and ruffled his head fur. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Cerberus.”

Cerberus barked softly in triplicate.

Hermione smiled.

“How is our Headmistress doing, Poppy?” Severus asked.

“I had to keep her sedated for now,” Poppy confessed. “She would wake to terrors and thrash around, and it was hampering her healing. The anti-venom and blood purifiers have helped with her state, but as I said before, physically healed and mentally may be something we have to judge later when she is safe to rouse. Out of the three of them, strangely, Mrs. Norris seemed to respond to the treatment the best.”

Snape nodded grimly, pulling his outer robe towards his chest in an automatic gesture.

“Thank you for brewing those anti-venoms so quickly, Severus,” Poppy thanked him genuinely. “I had no reason to keep acromantula anti-venom in stalk here at the school. Hagrid would have been the only one who would have had reason to bring in one for a class, so the only real anti-venom we’ve needed was for the venomous tentacula plants in the greenhouses. I truly believe if it hadn’t been for you, they would have died before we could have gotten the proper potions owled in to us here.”

Severus shrugged nonchalantly, his outer robe ripping across his shoulders. “It was no trouble, Poppy. Between Apprentice Granger and myself, you should have plenty to carry you over for any possible future incidents as well.”

“I hope not,” Pomfrey confessed, “but it will be good to be prepared. Well, I will leave you both to your business. Thank you again, the both of you, for making sure Argus was given his proper dose.”

Severus nodded grimly, and both he and Hermione turned and left with the same motion, sweeping from the room as their dark robes fluttered behind them and Cerberus trotting along between them.

Poppy gave a small smile as they left. She had known Severus since he was but a boy—a lonely and misunderstood student whose ideas of success had been as skewed as the rest of his House back in the day. It was good to see he had finally found a kindred spirit to temper his seemingly eternal scowl.

As a healer, recognising the signs of healed wounds was her lot in life, and never was she so glad to see it at last.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In an attempt to mend the rift that had formed between Hagrid and the centaurs as well as the wide chasm that had formed between Hogwarts and the centaur in general, Severus had convinced Magorian to allow for an afternoon meeting with the Care of Magical Creatures class with on the greens near Black Lake where the forests eased into the shore.

The area was out of the way of most foot traffic, and even more importantly, out of line of sight from Hogwarts, giving the centaur more ease to mingle without feeling like being in the spotlight and a clear path back into the forest if something did not meet with their approval.

Bane stood near the edge of the forest with a number of the adult hunters of the herd, watching as Firenze went about being the ambassador that was brave or tolerant enough to stand amongst the human students without discomfort. While the herd was perfectly accepting of Severus, Hermione, and Draco, Hagrid was still on thin if not non existent ice with the herd, and the students were something of an unknown factor.

Magorian watched from nearby, watching Hagrid with a hawk-like gaze to insure the half-giant knew he was being watched carefully.

Hagrid, as if realising what he said could make things very uncomfortable for himself very quickly, managed to keep his comments about the centaur’s territories neutral and stick to lecturing on facts.

Perhaps the biggest lesson learnt by Hagrid’s impromptu centaur-centric class was that there were female centaurs in the herd. Flurries of hands raised and polite and curious questions arose when Chara slowly walked out into the clearing with Bacchus. She was nervous being out of the forest and surrounded by strangers, but Bacchus kept his hand upon her withers to reassure her. Her eyes darted to and fro quickly as her feet stomped restlessly, ready to carry her off into the forest at a moment’s notice.

Chara searched the sea of unfamiliar faces, but when her eyes met Draco’s familiar grey irises, she visually calmed upon seeing a familiar face in the group and allowed herself to be looked upon. The female students gasped as she stepped out into the sun. Her dappled tan coat contrasted against her ebony black legs, mane, and tail.

“You’re so beautiful,” Pansy said with amazement. Her face softened into a smile.

Chara shifted her weight, looking down with some embarrassment.

Draco widened his eyes as Pansy managed to make a comment that wasn’t insulting during a new situation. Perhaps her incident with being stunned in the Dark Forest had a positive effect.

Bacchus gently groomed her mane and her back for her as she stood in the clearing answering questions and asking questions of her own.

For once, Hagrid’s class was utterly fascinated with the subject at hand, and everything was going well until Dean Thomas opened his mouth and asked “Did Hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?” Glares of utter disbelief shot into Dean from all the students and the centaurs.

Even patient Firenze stiffened at the question, and Magorian and Bane snorted derisively from the edge of the forest. Chara and Bacchus spun on their hind legs and cantered back into the trees with disgust.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t…” Dean stammered. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He received even more glares from his classmates.

“Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans,” Firenze said with a flat expression. His ears were pinned back and he stomped on the ground with his hooves in irritation. (OotP 502)

Draco used the awkward silence to glare at Dean as though he were a pariah, making use of Crabbe and Goyle to rain disgust down upon him. Idiot. Even if he was ignorant, accusing the centaur being “bred” by Hagrid was pretty stupid. Draco did notice he wasn’t alone in his disgust, as even members of Gryffindor House were giving him some pretty appalled expressions.

Firenze kept answering questions, but Pansy Parkinson was showing her irritation that Dean had driven away the beautiful mare she had been admiring. When the distant sound of the period bell rang from far off, Hagrid dismissed the class, escorting them all back to Hogwarts after wisely making sure there were no stragglers left to pester the centaurs as they filed back into the Dark Forest.

As the centaurs filtered back into the Dark Forest, they came upon the clearing they had left their colts, fillies, and foals in. All of them had systematically piled up on one slightly squished gryphon, whose only visual indicator was her wings sticking out of the pile and her tail sticking out further down as it swished back and forth in her amusement.

“Are you under there, Hermione?” Magorian asked with a chuckle.

A muffled eagle squeak replied to him as her tail swished back and forth rapidly.

“Looks like she’s engaging in a typical evening of foal sitting,” Bane chuckled with mirth.

The centaur youth, who seemed perfectly happy piling up on top of Hermione’s gryphon body, had not wandered while their parents were off being ambassadors to Hogwarts. Even the ones who were left out of the mail pile-up were sitting down with their legs folded under them, leaning against the others for comfort.

As their parents returned, the young centaurs slowly returned to their feet and greeted their dams and sires. As the majority of the young centaurs left with their parents, Hermione’s somewhat flattened body along with Cerberus’ wagging tail was exposed. A few more centaurs got to their feet after stroking Hermione’s and Cerberus’ fur gently, finally revealing the three-headed pup, who panted, seemingly happily upon being exposed to the air.

Puddles and Trefoil were the last to stand up, placing their hands upon her withers and stroking her back gently as if to apologise for smothering her.

Hermione did not move, her tail ceased to move.

Trefoil and Puddles pawed at her with concern.

Hermione was still.

“Look what you’ve done,” Bane said with a sniff. “You smothered her to death.”

Trefoil and Puddles shook the gryphon’s body with hurried movements, concern on their young faces.

“Now you’ve done it,” Magorian commented.

The two young centaur hurriedly shook Hermione’s nearby wing.

Suddenly, Hermione’s talons shot out like the strike of a serpent, and dragged the young centaurs back down into her pawed embrace, causing the two to squeal in surprise.

Bane and Magorian barked their laughter as Hermione loved on the two young centaurs, sticking her beak into ticklish places and preening their manes mercilessly.

When at last Hermione released the pair, the two young centaurs were too exhausted to move, their sides heaving in exertion. Hermione laid her head across Trefoil’s heaving side and chirped softly. Cerberus wriggled out from under one of her wings and slurped under her chin, and then Puddle’s, and then Trefoil’s.

Trefoil giggled and pet the dog happily, but didn’t even try to get up.

“Alright, that’ll be enough of that,” Bane snorted with amusement as he pulled Trefoil up from the ground. “Off to your dam, miscreant!”

Trefoil whickered sadly as she trotted off in search of her mother.

Magorian nudged Puddles up with his forelegs. “You too, lazybones.”

Puddles leaned into Hermione before cantering after Trefoil.

Hermione lay back on the ground, winds spread, and sides heaving.

Magorian and Bane stared down at her, chuckling. “Surely one evening foal-sitting hasn’t taken all of your energy?”

Hermione gave a soft squeak as an answer, causing the two centaurs to chuckle lowly. She stood up slowly, yawning and stretching.

“Come,” Magorian said, jerking his head in a come-hither motion. “Sup with us under the stars that the planets may reveal their secrets.” He headed off in the direction of the camp with Hermione following in a trot with Cerberus at her side, and Bane bringing up the rear.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Firenze escorted Hermione to the edge of Hogsmeade the next day. His gait was smooth and relaxed and his expression serene. They had all slept together as a herd under the stars, with Magorian and Firenze pointing out the planets and their alignments.

“I must thank you, Hermione,” he said softly as he stood at the edge of the forest overlooking Hogsmeade. His tail flicked back and forth over his palomino hide.

“Whatever for, Firenze?” she asked in puzzlement.

“My people have never been so at ease in their territory,” he explained. “Never so accepting of their neighbours… even under treaty. Treaty was just words before.”

“To be honest, my friend,” Hermione said softly. “I could not imagine my life without the herd.”

Firenze smiled warmly. “And we could not imagine ours without your pack mingled amongst us. It was always the Owl Master that came to us in secret to bring us the offerings that Dumbledore promised, and he was always alone. It is good to see that this has changed.”

Hermione looked out over the snow covered Hogsmeade. “I have found something too,” she said softly. “Something worth fighting for.”

Little Vik poked his head out from her hair and fluttered over to Firenze, landing on his shoulder and looking out over Hogsmeade as if Firenze was his own personal watchtower.

The centaur chuckled, his hand gently alighting over the hippogriff’s warm wings. “Sometimes family can be found in unexpected places, yes?” He patted Vik as he looked down at Cerberus, who was laying at Hermione’s feet attentively.

“You would be correct,” Hermione chuckled.

“Chara had been concerned about Trefoil before you came, did you know this?” Firenze asked.

“Concerned?” Hermione said with puzzlement. “Why?”

“She had always kept to herself, isolating herself from the herd,” explained Firenze with a sad smile. “Save her dam and her sire, she never sought out the touch of her herd. She was bright, we could tell, but alone. When you came and she began to brush you, Chara saw it as a sign from the Heavens.”

“Touch is so important amongst the herd,” Hermione said with a bit of wonder. “I could not imagine not being piled on by a bunch of young centaurs.”

Firenze nodded. “You gave her the gift of touch, Hermione. She reached out to you, then a stranger, and you gave to her something she will remember until her last breath. This is only one facet of our alliance that Magorian sees. One facet of a shining jewel it has become. Even Bane has embraced the alliance with a tolerance I have never seen in him before this year. Our herd is strong, healthy, and the planets align for us. It is a good thing.”

Hermione smiled as she looked over the snow-covered town. “I’m so afraid, Firenze,” she admitted.

“Afraid for what, child?” Firenze said softly. His tone was warm and without offence.

“Of letting those I care about down,” Hermione confessed. She turned to look Firenze in the eyes. “My father, my brothers, the herd… especially those like Trefoil… the list keeps growing.”

“Hermione,” Firenze said softly, his hand reaching to touch her back as he stroked it gently. “You will never let us down. You may fall, but you will never fail.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You will always get back up again.”

Hermione gave a half smile. “May I hug you?”

“You need not ask,” Firenze chided. “You are one of us in all matter of things.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Firenze’s torso, placing her head under his chin and inhaling his scent deeply.

Firenze embraced her in return, tucking her under him with affection.

Touch and scent had become something intrinsic to definition of family to Hermione, and Firenze’s warm and nonjudgmental embrace held her close, she began to realise just how far she had come from the cheeky eleven year old Muggle-born witch. Just as her Master’s scent and touch were the very definition of home, so did every touch and scent amongst her brothers and her pack, from her Bergamont scented Slytherin brother, to the scent of the salt and sea upon Viktor… all of them combined in to a sensory tapestry that hung in her definition of “home.”

She realised that it was this that separated her from her fully human friends. As much as she loved Harry, Ginny, and even Ron, they would probably never understand how important touch was in combination with the scents that marked them as who they were.

Cerberus licked her hand as if sensing her thoughts, rubbing his heads against her thigh. His nose twitched as he took in her scent and mood and whined at her.

Hermione smiled at him, loving on his heads until his back leg thumped rapidly up and down, causing Firenze to chuckle loudly.

She stepped away from Firenze with a slight pang of loss, and he smiled at her, seeming to understand all to well the gift of comfort.

“It is a great gift given to you, this knowledge you must bear,” Firenze said softly, “and a great burden. But we will always there to share it with you. You needn’t bear it alone. And while I know you never forget your pack and your family, sometimes, I think you forget that you need not bear the weight of your responsibilities alone.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Firenze.”

Firenze smiled back at her. “It is nothing,” he said. “Race you the forest below?” He looked at her with mischief.

Suddenly Cerberus took off with a bark, tearing off down the trail to the forest below.

Firenze gave her a face of surprise. “Cheat!” As if to rub salt in the wounds, Vik chirped and zoomed off his shoulder after Cerberus.

Hermione laughed as Firenze took off down the path and Hermione chased after, laughing the entire way down to Hogsmeade.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry succeeds in Occlumency at last.  
> Severus comes back from a Death Eater meeting in pain.  
> Hermione gets a gift that is not expected or welcome.  
> Cerberus finds himself useful!

**Chapter 59: Lessons at an End**

For the first time in his life, Harry realised he was at peace. He wasn’t tense, simmering, broiling, or drowning in waves of emotion. He was not worried or riddled with doubt, and he wasn’t angry. He no longer felt the driving need to hurt someone. It was… liberating.

He opened his eyes and Snape’s black eyes and impassive expression stared back at him, and perhaps for the equally first time—Harry realised how Snape’s and Hermione’s painfully similar impassive regards came to pass.

The sudden and overdue epiphany of why Snape had known so easily that he had not been practising, why Hermione had insisted so often that he practice, and why Viktor and his brothers had told him over a year ago that his mind was as easy to delve into as a clear mountain stream. He realised that all anyone like Snape had to do was follow his emotions right into his unprotected mind… and he also knew that Snape didn’t need a wand to read it. Hermione hadn’t needed it to see his dreams, and Viktor and his brothers hadn’t needed it to see right through him.

He had been so angry, emotional, and convinced that his life hadn’t been fair for so long that he hadn’t been listening to the people who were truly trying to help him. Even after Dumbledore had told him it was necessary, he had been too busy being suspicious of Snape to listen to what he was trying to say.

At least, he had been. After seeing his father in Snape’s memories, Harry had experienced his first true epiphany about his ideas of his father. His father really had been… a swine. He had been everything Snape had told him as he was yelling at Harry to improve. And Harry had been so busy being angry at Snape for spouting lies about his father, he hadn’t realised that while Snape was indeed spouting off in anger, he had been, actually, telling the truth. By some rare act of fate or karma, Harry ended up viewing Snape’s horrible memory of Harry’s father and the Marauders torturing Snape in a manner that made Dudley look like his best friend.

Strangely, perhaps moved by the black-haired young wizard crawling towards him and laying his head on his boots, Snape had continued the lessons that Harry had, until that point, ignored and left unpractised for over a year. Only this time, Harry had finally been ready to listen and learn from this dark clad enigmatic wizard at last.

Perhaps, a part of him realised, he should have taken a cue from Hermione. Hermione, despite her many detentions with the dark wizard for the last few years, had trusted him to tend her wounds after she had battled for Mr. Weasley’s life, and she had been tended by Snape after Grawp had tried to squeeze the life out of her. There were probably countless other times she had trusted him with her life as well… he had just been too blind to see it or accept it as anything but duress. He had been too eager to blame Snape for the majority of what was wrong with Hogwarts instead of learning from him like Dumbledore had pleaded for him to do. In a way, perhaps he owed a little something to Dolores Umbridge for proving that there were far worse things in the world than Snape.

And now, feeling the calm that came from separation from his emotions and the shield provided by true occlumency, Harry understood. He understood why Hermione’s face had always looked so sad when she he had begged her to tell her what was going on only to be rebuked with an enigmatic “I can’t tell you, yet, Harry. Not until I know what I tell you won’t be known by anyone else.”

He had misunderstood her then. He had been angry, accusing her of not trusting him to keep a secret. She had tried to explain, but he had shoved her away, and she had never spoken of her feelings again. She had closed her mind to him, and now he realised both how and why.

Hermione had known occlumency, and she had shut her pain and hurt feelings deep within, obscuring her true thoughts behind a hundred other well constructed false smiles. He had hurt her, and she continued to treat him like it didn’t matter that he had. He had been a fool… an arrogant and self-righteous fool. He was more like his father than he ever wanted to admit. He refused to let it end there. He wanted to treat her like the sister she was and with the respect she deserved instead of using Ron or Ginny like a social buffer to keep the conversations from getting too serious or keep Hermione from asking him things he didn’t want to answer.

He knew why she couldn’t trust him now, and looking back on himself of even a few weeks previous… he knew he wouldn’t have trusted himself either.

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” Snape said lowly. “Your lessons are at an end.”

Harry looked up at Snape, looking him straight in the eyes. There was no answering emotion in Snape’s regard. He was, as always, an enigma.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said at last, “I know I haven’t been the best student. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

Snapes dark eyes flicked towards him, scanning his face, perhaps, for signs of deceit. “You are welcome, Mr. Potter. I trust you have not had any more… nightmares?”

“No, Sir,” Harry replied.

“And your scar?” Snape asked.

Harry automatically reached out to touch his scar. “It hasn’t pained me since… when I really started to practice.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Harry had expected a scathing remark, and he knew he deserved more than one of them for his past attitude.

“My Apprentice will be relieved to hear it,” Snape said finally. His voice was a low rumble.

Harry flushed in shame. He had purposely shut her out of talk of his nightmares. His anger had been his reaction to her concern, but instead of accepting her help, he had clammed up and stormed off every time she brought it up and yelled at Ron every time he had told her that Harry was still talking in his sleep. Finally, she had stopped asking him. She hadn’t stopped hanging out with her friends. She hadn’t even stopped being friendly, but her conversations were so terribly neutral and so terribly safe. “I owe Hermione an apology, Professor,” Harry admitted softly.

“Oh?” Severus rumbled, his hands pulling his outer robe closer to his chest. “Whatever for?”

Harry took a really big bite of his humble pie. “She was trying to convince me to let you teach me. I yelled at her. I made her look inferior in front of our friends so I wouldn’t have to answer her questions… then I avoided her questions altogether.”

Severus stared at him unblinking.

“I’ve been so angry,” Harry said. “Like something has gone wrong inside of me… and I took it out on her. I never realised just how much until now—now that the anger is gone.”

Snape looked at him. “This anger. Is it yours?”

Harry looked at him strangely. “Of course it was mine. Whose else could it be?”

“Someone else’s?” Severus answered him with an exasperated expression.

“I uh…” Harry started. “I suppose so. I mean… I don’t feel the anger anymore, but that’s the occlumency, isn’t it?”

“Occlumency shields you from yourself and from outside influence, Mr. Potter,” Snape said patiently.

“Right, sorry,” Harry said, casting his gaze down.

“If you do happen to have any more… visions that slip through your occlumency, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, “it would behove you let me know… or, perhaps you can redeem yourself by telling my Apprentice.”

Harry looked up at the mention of Snape’s Apprentice and nodded somewhat sheepishly. “I will, sir.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Viktor yawned as he pulled Hermione to him as she attempted to read. She squeaked softly, but snuggled into him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her neckline. He growled softly as his teeth nipped the skin of her neck.

Hermione meeped, her book falling out of her hands, her hands flailing outward as her nerves gave her conflicting signals. Viktor’s fingers traced the line of her jaw and neck and massaged her head, causing a chain of sounds to come from Hermione’s throat that sounded like a mixture of eagle and human blended together.

Viktor responded with his own low growl, tumbling her over onto her back and pinning her wrists to the cushion as his mouth covered hers. He gently ran the tip of his tongue under her bottom lip, waiting for her response.

Hermione shuddered, loosing her own growl of response, wriggling her arms out from under his and pulling him down on top of herself as their kiss deepened and Viktor’s rumbling chuckle vibrated from within his chest. He placed his hands on the sides of her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheeks.

“Love you,” he purred softly as he placed a kiss upon her nose. “Know this, right?”

“I,” Hermione began, “may have put two and two together.”

Viktor smiled at her warmly. “Depend on what number you come up vith.”

“Forty two,” Hermione purred.

Viktor pressed his forehead to hers. “Think arithmetic may be faulty.”

“Hrm,” Hermione replied, rubbing her cheek against his. “Seemed okay on my end.”

Viktor smirked. “Not sure two and two ever reach forty two, even in strange backwater countries where math counted with stones and sticks.”

“You sure?” Hermione asked, taking a moment to breathe into his ear.

Viktor shuddered and pulled her against him tightly, flopping on his back with a laugh. “Pretty sure, da,” he breathed heavily.

“Hnn,” Hermione grunted, using her fingers to walk up his chest and touch his chin. “Perhaps we shall agree to disagree.”

“I may be up for negotiation,” Viktor said with a smirk.

Hermione placed a kiss upon his cheek. “I love you too, my personal freak of nature.”

Viktor grinned. “You do not have other freaks of nature in sidelines waiting, ne?”

“Ne, I do not, you jealous creature,” Hermione scolded. “Unless our brothers count as freaks of nature.”

Viktor seemed to ponder the idea. “You have point. Brothers also freaks of nature. Battle could be epic.”

“There will be no battles!” Hermione protested, thwapping Viktor on the chest with her palm.

Viktor gave her a disappointed face that one would expect to see on a child denied his favourite toy.

“No!” Hermione insisted, thumping him again.

“Fine,” Viktor grunted. “Vill not beat up brothers in epic battle for beautiful vitch.”

Hermione let out her breath and beat her head against his shoulder.

“I vish to negotiate terms,” Viktor said softly, rubbing the back of her head with his fingers.

“What are you AHHH—” Hermione didn’t manage to articulate anything else as Viktor waved his hand and all the lamps extinguished, and he pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder as he drew her into his warm embrace.

As it turns out, Viktor was an excellent negotiator.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus crumpled into his bed with a half groan, for once shunning the warmth and comfort of the Lair for his human bed.

The Dark Lord had not been in a happy mood, and a part of him wondered if the Dark Lord could be “happy” or if his moods simply changed who he targeted for his tortures. Happy meant the targeting of Muggles and whatever enemies, and unhappy meant targeting of his own allies with indiscriminate dolling out of pain and suffering.

The Dark Lord wanted information, but he wasn’t telling his Death Eaters what he wanted exactly… only that he wasn’t getting the information he wanted. Vague clues seemed to be the norm at the meetings. People were being sent to seemingly random places to “watch for activity” and then punished for not seeing any. Merlin forbid they saw anything in such places, because whatever they did to respond to it was never the right choice. Torture came hand-in-hand to this vagueness, as if his followers were supposed to be both omniscient and obedient at the same time. Severus was pretty sure if he was omniscient, he would never have been in the situation that had branded the Dark Mark on his arm in the first place, nor would he have been there waiting like a sitting duck the day James Potter had come up with his gang of Marauders and strung him up by his feet.

The disappearance of the Dark Lord’s pet snake had sent him into a chain of random murders in the Muggle community, and it seemed with every murder, Voldemort was getting even more unstable. One moment he would be serene, the next he was angry, the next manic, and then fall into a silent brooding depression that was almost more frightening than his wrath. It wasn’t the silence… it was what came after that everyone near him felt.

The time of blind loyalty to the Dark Lord had long since passed. There was no one amongst the Death Eaters, not even poor deluded Lucius, who hadn’t realised that their Dark Lord had a few screws loose if not completely missing entirely. The problem now was finding out how much more abuse the Death Eater ranks could endure by their Lord before minor realisations became something mutinous.

Severus coughed painfully. His own torture in front of the other Death Eaters had even served to rattle the cages of the faithful. Severus was the Dark Lord’s trusted spy, yet he was not immune to the torture sessions. If those that were doing well for the Dark Lord’s service were still getting tortured, the benefits of being on the winning side seemed far less…appealing.

At least after a few rounds of the Cruciatus curse, Voldemort had moved on to torture someone else. The meeting hadn’t really been much more than torture. The Dark Lord didn’t even give any new orders. It seemed as though the path of purpose that once carried Voldemort were becoming hidden and unclear.

Now if he could just wait for the pain potion to kick in. Cruciatus never responded well to pain potions. Its very nature defied attempts to dull its effects.

There was a thump against his bedroom door and Severus stared into the gloom. His room was far too well warded for him to panic as to who it was. There was a very short list of people who could freely enter his chambers. Any that tried to force their way in would be met with about twenty different variants of pain that would have made the Dark Lord seem… kind.

A soft whine mixed with an eagle chirp sounded apologetically and begged the question that needed no words. So much for being alone with his pain.

Severus grunted, and within a few seconds, Hermione was snuggled up against his back, Viktor snuggled up against her, one displaced Australian Inland Taipan slithered next to him, and one thankfully puppy sized three-headed dog wiggled up next to his chest so his arm could curve around him. As if to prove that there was no escape, Vik snuggled up under his chin and chirped reassuringly.

It was a good thing he had a resilient and large bed. How many wizards could boast that their bed stood up to holding a gryphon, a simurgh, one ragged dark wizard, a three-headed dog, and one miniature hippogriff? He couldn’t think of any.

As the warmth of the family he had never predicted he’d have lulled him to sleep, his eyes closed at last, pain forgotten.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

As the O.W.L.s crept in every closer, the strain to find some way to have an edge on them seemed to creep in with it.

Harry found Hermione standing in the hallway staring at Eddie Carmichael, a sixth year Ravenclaw who had been making a killing selling brain stimulants of various kinds for obnoxiously high prices.

Harry, who had been trying to pin Hermione down when she was alone so he could apologise for being an utter prat to her months ago without ever apologising for it, had been failing utterly. Hermione, it seemed, either had the luck to never be alone when Harry was looking or she was using his own buffer tactics against him. Given her responsibilities as Snape’s Apprentice, however, he was beginning to realise that it was not manipulation that was keeping her away from him.

Hermione stood in front of Eddie with her hand outstretched. She had a scowl on her face that in combination with her intimidating robes did exactly what it did to any student used to the demeanour of her Master, Severus Snape. Eddie handed her a few jars of some liquid that Harry remembered Eddie had called “Baruffio’s Brain Elixir.” The pints were going for twelve Galleons a piece. The boy, even though he was a year senior, could not suffer the fierceness of Hermione’s glare, making Harry wonder if his product wasn’t what he was saying it was.

His suspicions were confirmed when Hermione’s hand clenched around the jars of elixir and they vanished into a wisp of smoke right before their eyes.

Eddie’s eyes grew round with fright and he looked about ready to back peddle down the corridor. Harry perked at the thought that he might finally be able to talk to Hermione alone when the taller and, if it was possible at this very moment, more intimidating figure of the Potion Master of Hogwarts glided down the hall from the opposing direction, cutting Eddie Carmichael off from his retreat.

Snape, as usual, didn’t even need to say anything to strike complete and utter terror into wrong doers in any House but his own, and there was some debate that wrong doers in his own House weren’t exactly treated to tea and crumpets either.

Eddie groveled like a sycophant, attempting to wriggle out of punishment by making what Hermione had destroyed, now that the evidence was gone, seem far more beneficial and benign. It was a mistake, however, because now Eddie had just questioned the integrity of his Apprentice, and that was an entirely different level of sin.

Harry couldn’t even hear what Snape was saying to Eddie as he glowered down at him, but judging by the pallor of his face, he was pretty sure the threats were not veiled in the slightest. Eddie was finally allowed to flee down the hall, looking like he’d just met a Hungarian Horntail in a dark alley.

Hermione pulled out a few vials of something that looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh no,” Ron said from beside him suddenly, having appeared out of no where. “Hermione got to Harold Dingle before I could get that vial of powdered dragon claw.”

Harry startled. “Dragon claw?”

“Yeah,” Ron said glumly. “It’s supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours. I really wish we’d gotten a vial or two before Hermione got to him.” (OotP 708)

Hermione had popped the cork on one vial after looking at it through the glass. She wafted her hand over it and scrunched up her face in distaste, passing it to Snape. Snape, doing the same movement of his hand over it, mirrored her expression and nodded to her. Hermione clenched the vials in her hands for a few seconds and they disappeared.

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure you really wanted that stuff,” he speculated. “Hermione looked pretty sure that whatever that was… was really bad.”

“Hermione thinks a lot of things are bad, Harry,” Ron complained.

Snape handed Hermione a sealed scroll. Harry could see the waxen seal pressed upon the lip of the scroll in dark green wax over a silver coloured ribbon.

Hermione took the scroll and gave a small bow of her head in deference to her Master. He dismissed her with a wave, and Hermione took off down the hall in the opposite direction as Snape started to walk towards them.

Ron immediately went silent, looking down at his feet, and Harry caught the expression on Snape’s face. Snape looked impassive as usual. He swept by them without a word, robes billowing behind him.

Curiosity burned within Harry as he wondered what was on the scroll he had handed Hermione. He hustled down the hallway in the hopes of catching up with her as Ron, in turn, attempted to catch up with him.

“What’s your hurry, mate?” Ron huffed.

“Keep up, Ron,” Harry replied as he increased his pace to keep Hermione in sight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It turns out that Harry didn’t have to go too overly far to figure out where Hermione was going. She was standing in the entrance hall meeting a group of witches and wizards that looked as though they had walked off the pages of his History of Magic textbook. Literally… creases and all.

The group of elder witches and wizards were peering at the swamp that was still taking up the entire corridor up to the Great Hall.

Hermione had her head inclined in a bow as she handed the scroll to a short-statured witch. The woman fussed with the wax seal and broke it, unrolling it and squinting as she read what was inside.

“Ah, that explains it,” the witch said a bit loudly, causing the wizards next to her to startle slightly. “Pity Dumbledore could not greet us himself. The man could do some spectacular things with a wand back when he was a student.”

“I take it this… Umbridge is the ruling Headmistress at this time?” an elderly wizard said as he read the scroll through his spectacles.

“Yes, Professor Tofty,” Hermione replied.

“I’m surprised she’s still here, considering all the rubbish she’s been involved in this year,” the balding wizard said as he passed the scroll down.

The corner of Hermione’s lip twitched. “It would be my pleasure to escort you to the Hospital Wing, Professors,” she said with a smile. “There have been a few… renovations since last you were here, as I’ve been told, and Headmistress Umbridge is still recovering there. I am sure she would still wish to greet you before you retire to your quarters.”

“I see the castle has already given you a swamp,” a tall, almost frail looking wizard said as he peered into the corridor. “Can’t say I’ve ever experienced this sort of landscaping before, but I will admit the detail is spectacular.”

“I’m surprised you’re paying attention, Archibald,” the smaller woman snickered.

“Hey now, Professor Marchbanks,” Archibald grunted. “I can and do appreciate a well constructed swamp habitat, even though I tend to prefer old growth forests.”

“However do we get across this?” Tofty asked, standing at the edge of the swamp.

Hermione smiled as a gondola glided up to the edge automatically. Neville had managed to improve on his boats by adding an automatic movement to them. The empty gondolas would glide up to someone who needed them and wait for them to board before zooming off to the other side or down the hall. “After you, Professors. Plenty of room for you all.”

The group of examination professors all shuffled onto the large gondola before Hermione stepped aboard it too. The gondola pulled away from the shore and glided silently down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing.

“I must say,” Marchbanks commented as the gondola came to a stop at the end of the corridor and she hopped off. “I have not seen such an excellent sampling of an old mangrove swamp in many years. Hogwarts has truly outdone itself. I do love these gondolas.”

“Here, here, Griselda,” Tofty agreed, stepping off the gondola. “That was an impressive ride down the corridor. I may have to put one of these in around my house.”

“Just not in your house, Tofty,” Archibald sniped. “Your wife will not spare you her wand if you tried to put one in inside the house.”

Tofty chuckled. “Merlin no,” he said with a laugh. “I value my parts.”

“As it should be,” Marchbanks snerked at him.

Hermione led the group up the corridor to the Hospital Wing with a smirk of her own. “Here you go, Professors,” Hermione said with a smile. “Headmistress Umbridge is inside. I am certain she would not wish me to join you. Would you like me to wait here for your meeting to be finished?”

“Heavens, no, dear,” Marchbanks said. “You’ve been more than courteous. Please give your Master our fond regards and appreciation for the escort to the Headmistress. We can find our way from here.”

Hermione gave them all a formal bow of the head and a slight curtsy, turned on her heels, and disappeared down the corridor.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hermione!” Harry called to her as she stood in the Beauxbaton’s Honorary Courtyard. The butterflies were flitting about, landing upon her hair and then fluttering off.

Hermione turned to regard him, her eyes flicking from Ron then Harry. Her expression, at first, was impassive, but as she realised who was approaching, the familiar warmth returned to her face. “Harry, Ron, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Well er…” Harry started.

Ron looked a little like a deer caught in headlights.

Just as it looked like he was going to say something, the period bell rang, signalling the end of the day’s classes.

The pair stared at Hermione sheepishly.

Hermione pursed her lips together, giving them both a very McGonagall type expression. She gave a short whistle, and within seconds, both Harry and Ron were flat on their backs with very drooling three-headed menace standing on their chests with his large front paws.

“Ah!” the both of them flailed and tried to get up.

All three heads growled at them, showing his pointed puppy teeth as menacing as he could muster.

“We skipped out on Divination!” Ron blurted. “We couldn’t help it. Trelawney was talking about maculomancy again today. It was soooo boring before. I can only imagine how bad it would be again today.”

Hermione raised a brow and snapped her fingers. Immediately Cerberus let them up and bounded over to her side and sat down, panting with an almost joyful expression on his puppy face. “I can’t imagine divination using the spots on the skin as being very exciting in any culture,” she confessed.

“Trelawney was staring at Seamus’ mole and telling him that since it was on his left shoulder he was a person of ‘quarrelsome nature,’” Ron said.

“Sounds more like Malfoy,” Harry said.

Hermione lifted a brow.

Harry sucked in his breath. “Look, Her—”

“Were those the people from the Wizarding Examinations Authority?” Ron blurted.

Harry slumped his shoulders. This was why he wanted to catch Hermione alone.

Hermione was already closing herself off. He could sense it now. It wasn’t so much a sense of magic, it was the lack of warmth. She was guarding against being hurt… hurt by people like her best friends, who seemed to be the best at it. He realised in that moment just how guarded Hermione had become since their first years together. Perhaps, if he hadn’t had that history, he wouldn’t have noticed it, but he did notice it now. He suddenly felt even more guilty.

“Yes, the group I greeted earlier are from the Wizarding Examinations Authority,” she replied to Ron. “The O.W.L.s are starting on Monday. Did you expect them to just floo in every hour on the hour to administer tests?”

Ron made a face that seemed to say, “Why yes, actually, I did.”

Harry squared his shoulders, willing to say what he had to say in front of Ron if he had to. “Hermione, look—”

“Hermione!” Ginny squealed as she rushed towards them.

Harry closed his eyes and slumped. He just wanted to talk to his friend alone. Was that too much to ask?

As Ginny rushed up, Cerberus growled as she enthusiastically embraced Hermione in a rush. Harry noticed Hermione stiffen slightly, but relaxed slowly, putting her hand around Ginny’s back. Ginny looked down at the three-headed pup somewhat apologetically. “Looks like I overstepped my bounds,” she giggled.

“You haven’t exactly been around for him to get to know you,” Hermione said, flaring her fingers and clicking them. Cerberus came to her hand and licked her fingers, setting his heads upon her thigh.

“I know,” Ginny apologised. “I’m sorry. Oh here, I have something for you. Marietta says she’s really sorry. I told her that gifts weren’t the way to go about apologising, but she insisted that I give this to you. She said she’d give it to you herself, but you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Can you really blame her?” Harry said with a bit of anger. “She betrayed the entire Army, not just Hermione.”

“I know, Harry,” Ginny protested. “But she’s been trying to get me to talk to you for weeks now. She really does seem sorry.”

Hermione took the gaily wrapped package between her fingers, eyes narrowing. Harry could of sworn he saw her nostrils flare, as though she was trying to scent the package out.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Ginny asked. “The wrapping is beautiful.”

Hermione didn’t answer her. In fact she didn’t move at all. Her hand, which clenched the package in her finger tips did not move.

“Hermione, what’s?” Ron asked, looking as though he were going to shake her shoulder.

Harry’s hand reached out and stopped him. “No, Ron!”

Ron looked at him with confusion. Ginny looked at them both with confusion. “What’s going on? It’s just a gift.”

Cerberus whined and looked up at Hermione’s face, his fur was stiff around his collar.

“There’s something wrong with that package,” Harry said. “Can’t you feel it?”

Harry wondered if it was the gift of Occlumency that was allowing him to sense the strangeness of the little package in Hermione’s hands. Something had changed in it the moment her fingers had touched it. Something was moving under the wrapping… waiting… seeking some sign of Hermione’s movement. Now that his emotions weren’t distracting him from… everything… he could sense it. “Hermione, is there anything we can do?”

Hermione’s eyes flicked to his, and he startled. They were almost black. She was using every bit of control she had to not move.

Quick footsteps were approaching from the hallway. Snape was hurrying towards them with Minerva close behind. Somehow, they had been informed, but Harry had no idea how.

Snape and McGonagall had their wands out and pointed at the small package. Snape was incanting something in a low voice, and McGonagall was waving her wand in a very complex chain of movements that were so fast, Harry could barely tell where her wand was.

Ginny was wringing her hands nervously, and Ron had his arm around her. Harry could only stand and watch.

McGonagall’s wand flashed at the tip, and there was a sphere around the package, and she guided it up and out of Hermione’s hand. Something burst out of the side of the package like a harpoon and then disappeared, the only evidence that it had happened was a hole in the side of the package.

Snape exchanged glances with McGonagall.

“I have it,” Minerva said, encapsulating the package in what appeared to be a glass sphere. She took it in her hand and nodded.

Snape put up his wand at last and captured Hermione’s hands in his, inspecting them for damage. His dark eyes met hers. “You did well,” he said softly. “You can move now.”

Hermione trembled, her eyes boring into his. She slowly began to move her arms and her shoulders slumped.

Snape caught her with his arm, steadying her. “Do you need help getting back to the quarters?”

Hermione continued to stare down at the ground, but nodded mutely.

“I will meet you back in your chambers, Minerva,” Snape said.

Minerva nodded. “I will send an owl out to the Aurors. We will discuss this thing there. We are fortunate that none of the other students are here to spread the story with our latest guests in the castle. I will floo you when they arrive.”

Snape nodded. He put his arm out for Hermione, who grasped his sleeve like it was her anchor to life. He led her down the empty corridors towards the dungeons.

“And you three,” Minerva said grimly. “Follow me. I have some questions that will need answering.”

Ginny, Ron, and Harry gulped and nodded, following the Deputy Headmistress to her quarters.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Little Vik had found him, Draco was half asleep in the Slytherin Common Room, enjoying a rare moment of non dramatic peace. Their Common Room was rarely free of some sort of drama or another, so he took what he could get.

The little hippogriff slammed into his chest with a series of soft chitters and twitters. He took his tie in his beak and pulled on it, trying to get him to move.

“Ok, ok, little guy, I’m coming,” he placated the little creature. He got up off the couch and followed Vik out the portal.

Vik let him directly to Severus’ chambers, and that immediately set him on edge. Vik didn’t have to come get him to show up in the Lair. He normally found his way there nightly. Something had to be wrong.

As he went traced the complicated runes on the portrait service and muttered the chain of seemingly random Latin, it swung open. He entered quickly, waiting for it to shut before continuing in. Seeing no one in the main room, he walked towards the Lair.

Hermione was laying sprawled by the fire, her eagle head in Severus’ lap. Severus was sitting silently, his hand stroking the soft feathers on her head. Hermione’s eyes were closed, and Draco could tell from the movement of her chest that she was sleeping.

“I gave her a potion so she could sleep,” Severus said softly. “I need you to be here for her in case she wakes up.”

Draco nodded to his godfather. He didn’t ask. He didn’t have to.

Severus shrugged off his outer robe and folded it, placing it under Hermione’s head. He stood slowly. “I have a meeting with Minerva. I will return when I can.”

Draco nodded grimly. “We’ll be here.”

As Severus swept out of the room, Draco curled up at Hermione’s back, pressing his face into her neck feathers and letting the warmth of her body reassure him as he settled in to reassure her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“What is it?” The Auror asked, peering at the unwrapped package in the container.

“It appears to be a shell,” Minerva said. “A cone snail of some sort. I recognise the type from the beaches I used to walk when I was younger.”

“A snail?” another Auror said. “We’re here because someone put a snail into a box?”

“This is no ordinary snail,” Severus rumbled. “This is a deadly mollusk.”

“Somehow packaged with just enough magic to keep it in suspended animation until just the right target touched the package,” Minerva said with a frown.

“If I hadn’t seen that little harpoon like thing come out of the shell, I would never have suspected it was even there,” the first Auror said.

“Insidious,” the second agreed.

“You said Marietta Edgecombe gave you this, Miss Weasley?” Minerva asked.

Ginny was wringing her hands. “Yes, Professor. She’s been trying to get me to give it to Hermione for weeks now. She was so insistent that she wanted to apologise to her that I finally told her I would so she’d stop asking.

“Professor…” Ginny pleaded. “Did I almost hurt Hermione?”

Minerva shook her head. “There was no way you could have known, child,” Minerva said. “Hermione is fine. That is what matters.”

Severus stared at the cone snail in the container Minerva had put around it. “This is a very… Muggle method of revenge, Minerva. It requires… specialised knowledge.”

“I tend to agree,” the first Auror said. “I will admit I didn’t even know what that was until you told me.”

“Same,” said the other. “Yet… there is more to it than just a venomous harpoon. Dark Magic kept it primed for its task. That we could sense.”

“Something shielded it until the trigger was tripped,” Severus said. “My Apprentice told me that the moment she touched it, she knew, but until that point, it was innocuous.”

“Do you trust her senses?” The first Auror asked.

“Implicitly,” Severus replied, staring the Auror in the eyes.

“This Marietta Edgecombe,” the second Auror said. “Is she known to dabble in Dark Arts?”

Minerva shook her head. “There has been no sign of it before this.”

“Dark Arts is not born in a vacuum,” the second Auror said grimly. “At her age, if what you were telling me is correct, there would have been signs.”

There was a knock at the door. Minerva stood up to get it.

“Did any of you get approached by Ms. Edgecombe other than Ms. Weasley?” the first Auror asked.

Harry and Ron nodded vehemently. “No, sir,” they chimed.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape addressed Harry as his piercing gaze did what it did best. “Had she attempted to attend any more… extracurricular learning activities since the Headmaster left?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir.” The army had not met since Umbridge had driven out Dumbledore He furrowed his brows. “Sir… in fact… after that night, Marietta’s memory was pretty spotty. She couldn’t even remember much of anything after that night Professor Umbridge interrogated her.” He left out the part where Kingsley had altered her memories as to not incriminate the Army’s meeting times.

Minerva returned with another Auror.

“Leofric, Langford,” the man said slightly out of breath. “The Edgecombe girl is gone.”

“Gone?” the first Auror said with concern. “What do you mean gone, Hudson?”

“She’s not in the dormitories, Leofric,” Hudson replied. “The students I asked were all puzzled. They female student I sent up to fetch her ran up to get her and came back saying she wasn’t up there.”

Leofric stared intently as his colleague.

Langford stroked his beard with his fingertips. “Is there a reason she would target this… Ms. Granger over the three of you?”

“She blamed Hermione for her disgrace earlier this year,” Ron said with a grim look upon his face. “Marietta did some not so nice things to a number of us, but it was Hermione that caught her at it.”

Harry blinked at Ron’s candour without actually spilling details about Dumbledore’s Army. That was impressive.

“I see,” Langford said with a sigh. “I miss the days when the most children did to each other in school was use the jelly-leg jinx.”

Snape arched an eyebrow as if to say, “Must have been nice wherever it was YOU went to school.”

Leofric drummed his fingers on the nearby table. “Is there a way we can track down this Miss Edgecombe using the school trace before we start using the methods we tend to save for Dark witches that just escaped from Azkaban?”

Snape furrowed his brows. “There may be a way.”

Three sets of Auror eyes focused on the Potion Master of Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Three Aurors and two Hogwarts professors ran behind Cerberus as he tore off down the corridors of Hogwarts. After Minerva had put a hole just small enough to for the dog to get a good whiff of what was inside the container, the pup bounded away, heads all sniffing in different directions but body headed in one.

They ended up in various places. The girls lavatory, Ravenclaw’s Tower, the Great Hall, the classrooms, and the library before the Aurors started wondering if the pup was going to take them to every place in the castle before they found anything at all. The trail even led them into staffroom, which caused Minerva to look at Severus with concern as to the pups tracking accuracy.

Snape gave her a shake of his head.

The three-headed pup, however, was determined. His noses twitched, trailing the scent of what he was looking for.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny had tried to trail along, but Minerva sternly sent them back to Gryffindor Tower. The trio seemed disturbed that they could not help in the search or visit their friend, but they obeyed their Head of House.

It was only when Cerberus put his paws up on the Hospital Wing doors and whined that the pup stopped tracking. The Aurors frowned as they opened the door for him, and the pup dashed into the ward like a three-headed torpedo.

There was a feminine shriek that came from inside the ward, and the Aurors and professors had their wands out immediately, pulling aside the privacy curtain that the pup had dove behind in his quest to find the source of the scent.

As the group of them stood, wands poised for combat, Cerberus let out a low triple growl, his lips pulled back from his three sets of teeth. They stared unbelievingly at the witch Cerberus had led them to.

“Headmistress Umbridge,” Snape said, his velvet voice taking on the quality of dripping venom. “Played with any cone snails lately?”

* * *

 

**Headmistress Umbridge Suspended Pending Investigation into Dark Arts**

After multiple crusades in the name of the Ministry of Magic, Madam Undersecretary Professor, High Inquisitor, and Headmistress of Hogwarts Dolores Jane Umbridge has been taken into custody for the crimes of Dark Magic traced to her involving the manipulation of Hogwarts student Marietta Edgecombe in the attack against Apprentice Hermione Granger.

Aurors Leofric Helsig, Langford Housman, and Hudson Bavin were attending the summons of Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, our known heroine animagus who helped expose the insidious Rita Skeeter last year, on the attack against student and Apprentice Granger using a Dark magic laced venomous predatory aquatic snail that was charmed to remain in suspended animation until a very specific target touched the box in which it was held.

The Dark Magic, sensed by Apprentice Granger the moment her fingers touched the box, allowed her to remain perfectly still until help could arrive and the trap could disarmed, and we are happy to report that she is, thankfully, unharmed from the experience.

Marietta Edgecombe is still missing, and there are questions as to if she has been obliviated to wander without her memories, as the last spell cast from Umbridge’s wand appears to have been a memory charm. Her family implores those who knew their daughter to please keep an eye out for her. She may not know she knows you, and people are encouraged to keep this in mind when approaching her.

Interrogations with Dolores Umbridge have been suffering from various degrees of success, as the witch seems to have suffered a nervous breakdown upon her capture, spewing chains of accusations that are indicative of severe paranoia and delusions of grandeur. In the middle of her first interrogation, she broke into screams, slapping herself as she screamed for them to get the spiders off her. Further questioning has ranged from her accusing everyone around her as being the enemies of Cornelius Fudge and deserved to be punished to delirious ramblings that “they couldn’t force her live in the shack,” that she would see to it that all the “filthy half-breeds and Muggle filth eradicated from the Wizarding World,” that “she would never beholden herself to filth,” that “bad children deserve to be punished,” and that “she would break the bond if it was the last thing she did.”

Unfortunately, not much that makes sense has been gleaned off of the former Headmistress of Hogwarts, save her mad ramblings. Her wand has been confiscated by the Auror’s Office, and she has been incarcerated in isolation at St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries until the time she can be considered sane enough for a formal trial. It is not clear at the time when that will be.

Since her arrest, a store room full of blood quills was found hidden within Hogwarts, leading Aurors to also thoroughly search her private chambers at the school, finding a very incriminating journal of her activities since her appointment at the school. While the details are being kept under wraps by the Auror’s Office to await her trail, the official word is that the writings were in one word: damning.

In the wake of these events, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has taken the helm of Hogwarts and awaits the reinstatement of Albus Dumbledore to his rightful position as Headmaster. She said, in an interview with our paper, that “the proven paranoia and acts of evil of Dolores Umbridge during her reign at Hogwarts only proves that her accusations against Headmaster Dumbledore were unfounded and a product of a hateful crusade.”

Questions regarding how much of Umbridge’s paranoia and schemes were shared in Minister of Magic Fudge’s cabinet, as there are some of the ex-Undersecretary’s ramblings that were actually able to be confirmed, such as various smear campaigns against both Dumbledore and the public knowledge of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

Minister Fudge has not been available for comment, and his Office states that the Minister is currently attempting to find Albus Dumbledore to clear him of charges of sedition and conspiracy, but there are those here at the paper that must ask our dear readers: why not just clear him of the charges so he can come back himself? Why go searching for him?

These are questions our humble paper would like to see answered, and we encourage our readers to keep their minds sharp and never stop questioning the “official” words coming from certain departments of the Ministry of Magic. Many questions have been posed to the Minister’s Office, and none of them have been answered. Movements calling for Fudge’s resignation have started to spread across the Wizarding community, and they are starting to get louder.

As for the effects of Dolores Umbridge on Hogwarts, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall is confident that things will be returning to a more normal and stable environment for our children, and we here at the Daily Prophet can only wish Hogwarts the best in its recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. I just watched Elementary this evening when Sherlock calls Watson a “romantic terrorist” after he asks her if she’s engaged in “horizontal entertainment” in the past with a current client. I’m laughing so hard. Sheesh.
> 
> I apologise for sleep-deprived typos/missing words in this chapter. I am officially tired now and am putting myself to bed before “very bad things” happen.


	60. Well, At Least I'm Not a Whale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reveals her Animagus form to Minerva at last.

Chapter 60: Well, At Least I’m Not a Whale 

“I’m not an invalid!” Hermione protested as Draco made her up an extensive lunch.

“Hush and eat your cheese and pickle sandwich,” Draco shushed her, laying out a sandwich, drink, side salad, and bowl of soup.

Hermione huffed and then gave her brother an exasperated smile, but did as she was told.

Draco grinned as he tore into his own lunch. “Viktor would perforate me with his teeth if I didn’t make sure you were taken care of after he left, anyway.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I feel like Neville when he always says, ‘Why is it always me?’”

“Neville isn’t getting attempts on his life,” Draco muttered. “He just gets hung by chandeliers and can’t keep a cauldron stable if his life depended on it.”

“Severus told me back when he gave me the offer to be his Apprentice that things would get more difficult for me. He did not mention assassination attempts,” she grunted.

“Would it have mattered?” Draco asked, lifting a brow.

Hermione sighed. “Probably not. I mean, I should have put that together considering in protecting Harry, I end up being the target instead.”

“Hrm it is odd when Cerberus isn’t here,” Draco said. “I feel like I should have a weight on my leg and more drool when I’m trying to eat.”

Hermione laughed. “It’s father’s turn to tend the puppy and… apparently the hippogriff.”

“Little traitor,” Draco said with a smirk.

“Hey, he likes nesting in parchment and scrolls, and he knows that following Severus has a greater chance of both being present,” Hermione said, sticking her tongue out slightly.

“Oh, Viktor said that the store sold out of dragon’s claws,” Draco said with concern. “Every last one of them.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “As much as do appreciate how much we just made for the store,” she said. “I know exactly where it is going, and that means—”

“Telling Minerva, I know,” Draco said. “For once I have Crabbe and Goyle doing something helpful having them on the lookout for the stuff and confiscating it.

“Seen Harold Dingle actually selling it?” Hermione asked.

“Not that lucky,” Draco said with a shake of his head. “Aleksander said he would make the brain influencing reagents unavailable until after the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s are over in respect for Hogwarts now that they know. He said at Durmstrang you lost digits if you did something as stupid as use mild altering stimulants before a test, so he never even thought twice about having it for sale.”

Hermione snorted her tea. “There are times when I wonder if Hogwarts could benefit from a little Durmstrang methodology.”

“Dare I ask how much the store just made in regards to dragon’s claw?” Draco asked.

“Let’s just say we won’t have to worry about school supplies for the rest of our career at Hogwarts with our cut of it,” Hermione said with a sigh. “That was real dragon’s claw, not just some dried doxy droppings.”

“Merlin,” Draco said with a little wonder. “I realise this may sound odd to you, but it’s kinda of nice to have my own source of income I can tap into without my father or mother catching wind of it.”

“That doesn’t really surprise me, Draco,” Hermione chuckled. “It’s probably a relief to not have to explain to your father what you need the money for.”

“Truth,” Draco said with a nod. “Though… father has been very distracted this year. I asked him for ten galleons for an owl I could keep here at Hogwarts, and he just threw me a pouch of coins out of his pocket and threw me out of his study. I had enough to buy myself my own parliament of owls.”

“Impressive,” Hermione said with lifted eyebrows. “Dare I ask what you did to celebrate the excess?”

Draco laughed. “Well, I did buy Slytherin House a mixed crate of candies from Honeydukes, but the rest I put into my hidden account for our shop. I paid for some advertisements for the shop on some of the Wizarding cities’ advertising boards.”

“That explains the surge of new business we’ve been getting lately,” Hermione said. “Nice. Which means you’ve already made back your investment ten times over.”

Draco grinned like a Slytherin. “Oh, indeed. Did you know that mother’s favourite seasoning is Valko’s ‘Seasoning For a Rainy Day?’”

“Truly?” Hermione asked.

“Truly,” Draco confirmed. “I almost fell right off the dining room chair when I recognised the flavour on her roast during Easter dinner.”

Hermione let out her breath. “Don’t let her know Mrs. Weasley loves it too. They might realise they have something in common.”

“I’ll keep that under wraps, I think,” Draco said with a grin. He looked at her, placing his hand upon her forearm and rubbing it gently. “Are you okay, Ari? I mean… I know you’re physically okay.”

Hermione smiled at him, placing her hand over his. “I’m okay. I just… I always thought of being safe inside Hogwarts, you know? I mean… I knew accidents could happen, but I never thought I’d be killed here at Hogwarts. It was a scary revelation.”

Draco nodded. “Another piece of our childhood irrevocably lost.”

Hermione nodded. “I guess I just feel like I’ve left most of my childhood behind that the only thing that is left is my jaded paranoia.”

“At least we can all be jaded and paranoid together,” Draco said with a smile. “Hopefully when all of this is over, we can be less of each, and I can walk side by side with my sister without having to worry about who is looking.”

Hermione stood and drew him into a hug. “I love you, brother. Thank you for looking out for me.”

Draco ran his hand down the back of head like he would soothe her feathers. “Always, you know that.”

“I can still thank you,” Hermione said warmly, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

Draco chuckled, pulling her against his shoulder and ruffling her hair. “You’re just using me for my bergamont scent.”

“I can’t help it that you smell good,” Hermione giggled, sniffing his robes deeply.

“You realise how strange you sound right?” Draco ribbed.

“What?” Hermione said innocently. “Are you telling me I’m not normal, Draco Malfoy?”

Draco struggled to keep a straight face. “Since when have you ever been normal, Granger?”

“Since when have you?” Hermione said as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“It’s Hogsmeade weekend,” Draco grunted. “First one after Umbridge’s… unfortunate departure. Going to enjoy it?”

“It means I may have to have that heart to heart with Harry,” Hermione said with a sigh. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” 

“As much as I know I’m going to kick myself for saying this,” Draco said. “Harry didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“They never do,” Hermione said softly. 

Draco touched her arm. “Never underestimate the power of testosterone to mess up the most simple of interactions, Ari.”

“One could say the same about oestrogen,” Hermione laughed, giving Draco a playful shove. She started towards the door. “Thanks for lunch, Draco.”

He grinned back at her. “You’re welcome.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- 

“How are you feeling, Minerva?” Hermione asked as nibbled on the biscuit the Transfiguration Professor had given her.

“Quite relieved, actually,” McGonagall replied. “So very relieved.”

“Are the professors from the Wizarding Examinations Authority taking the news well?” Hermione asked.

“Better than expected,” Minerva said with a grin. “I have a feeling they weren’t too happy to see that Albus wasn’t here to greet them.”

“Any idea when he will be returning?”

Minerva shook her head. “Better safe than arrested with the strange mood of the Ministry lately. Much of my concerns for the school left with a certain High Inquisitor.”

“Snoggers in the hallways will be glad to know they can snog once again,” Hermione said dryly.

McGonagall shot her a look and then burst into laughter. “True.” The cat animagus stretched and smiled. “I am glad that we can reach some sort of normalcy now that that toad of a woman is no longer here. The other professors and myself have discussed retaining the swamp for… posterity. Some less than flattering names have been made up for it.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked. “Do tell.”

“Swumbridge,” McGonagall said. “Toad’s Bane…Dolomoor…Umbog… High Inquagmire Fen…”

Hermione practically choked on her biscuit. “Oh… my.”

“Some of the first-years have been petitioning to make a refreshment stand near the main doors called the “Drowning Kitten,” Minerva said, barely able to keep a straight face. “They want to put out a bunch of pink tables and chairs shaped like cats that turn into werewolves on the full moon. Not sure where they got that idea from.”

Hermione gave McGonagall her best halo look. “A refreshment stand sounds like a lovely idea, Minerva,” she coughed into her hand.

“Hnn,” McGonagall said with an arched brow, reflecting back Hermione’s and Severus’ own grunt back at them. “Speaking of kittens that turn into werewolves… we did, gleefully I might add, clean out Umbridge’s office and quarters and sent all her things to the Auror’s office to be sorted through in the case something else may spring up. I am very happy to report that the cat and kitten plates had to be packed up as well.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione commented.

“I’ve also told Argus that he needs to start putting the portraits back up in the hallways, but he’s still a bit battered to be doing too much, so I don’t expect that to be truly remedied until the summer,” Minerva said.

“He’s probably sulking, isn’t he?” Hermione said sadly. “He really liked that horrible woman. Even after the mean things she’d say to him.”

“She found him useful, and I think a man like Argus finds something so very alluring in being needed for something,” Minerva said with a distant expression. “Even if that need is a lie.” Minerva sighed as a somber feeling descended upon their conversation.

“Minerva,” Hermione said sombrely. “There is something I should tell you.”

The Scottish witch looked at her curiously. “Oh?”

“A group of friends decided to open up a shop in Hogsmeade at the beginning of the year called the Aerie,” Hermione confessed.

“Oh, that lovely little place between Honeydukes and Zonkos across from the Three Broomsticks?” Minerva asked.

Hermione nodded. “Have you been there?”

Minerva smiled. “I picked up some smoked venison there to make a dish I was craving. They do have a wonderful collection of cooking spices as well.”

Hermione chuckled. “Valko and Petya will be happy to know they made a good impression.”

“Ah hah,” Minerva said, putting two and two together. “Your Durmstrang friends.”

Hermione put her finger to her nose. “Indeed. But what I wanted to tell you is that one of the things they sell in the store is reagents as well as various relatively fool-proof potions for common ailments. One of them is dragon’s claw. Aleksander sent word to me that they’d been bought out. He said he will be more aware the next season to prevent purchase during O.W.L.s and N.E.W.Ts month, but he honestly didn’t think anything of it.”

Minerva frowned. “Durmstrang never had to worry about brain stimulant sales during tests?”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Apparently no. In Durmstrang, if you are caught cheating in any way… you lose fingers.”

Minerva’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Well then,” she coughed. “That explains why they wouldn’t even think of using it for cheating.”

“I’ve confiscated a few jars of the powder so far, and a few of the claws, but unfortunately not from the one who bought the store out,” Hermione explained.

Minerva rubbed her temples. “Do you know who bought them?”

Hermione nodded grimly. “Purchasing the reagents outside of school is not in itself a crime. I have yet to catch him at reselling them to students inside Hogwarts.”

“Let me guess…” McGonagall said. “Harold Dingle.”

Hermione nodded again.

The Deputy Headmistress sighed and shook her head. “I will have the Heads keep a better eye on him. It shouldn’t just be you out there trying to keep the stuff out of examinations. I thank you, though, for the heads up.” Minerva sighed softly.

Hermione nudged McGonagall gently with her elbow. “I have something to cheer you up.”

Minerva shook her head as if to clear it. “What?”

“It’s beautiful out,” Hermione said with a grin. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Minerva looked at Hermione with her eyebrows raised. “What are you up to, young lady?”

Hermione stood, putting her hand to her collar in a “who me?” gesture.

McGonagall stood, her face lined with suspicion. “Lead on then,” she said at last.

Hermione grinned at her and swept the room, her robes fluttering behind her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ah this should be a good spot,” Hermione said cheerily. The hike from Hogwarts had taken a little over a half hour, but the spring foliage alone had made the trek worth it. Despite it being June, the trees were still in bloom like it were still April, and even the distant Whomping Willow seemed strangely festive in a coat of white and pink flowers. Spring flowers still carpeted the hillsides, sending up wondrous floral scents as they walked.

“Odd to still feel like it is spring so late in the season,” Minerva said as she fingered a flower on a low tree branch. 

Little Vik alighted on the branch she was examining and chirped sweetly at the Deputy Headmistress, fluttering his wings in appeal.

Minerva smiled warmly, placing her hand over his warm wings, soothing them. She marvelled at his complexity. If she hadn’t known he was crafted with stone and magic, she would have thought him as real as the full sized ones in the forest. Vik chirped appreciatively, rubbing his head against her fingers. As she scratched Vik under the chin, she wondered if perhaps he had evolved past his making and become something unique… something real.

As if to follow her train of thoughts, Vik pranced up her arm and wriggled into the pocket of her robes, giving a soft chirp of approval.

Minerva’s heart melted. “He’s such a charmer. I do believe… I’m in love.”

Hermione smiled warmly. “He’s quite adept at melting the hearts of students, professors, and ice trolls, I fear.”

Minerva chuckled. “Pity he could not have worked his charms upon Umbridge. That woman could have used some serious melting of her heart.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “One must have a heart in order to thaw it, I fear.”

McGonagall let out her breathe. “True. Pity. Would be an epic end to You-Know-Who to be defeated by fleet of miniature hippogriffs.” 

Hermione laughed. “It would… and also… disturbingly adorable.”

Minerva laughed as she patted her hippogriff occupied pocket. “So, why have you brought me out into the middle of no where, far from Hogwarts?”

“I figured you’d want to see the results of meditations, now that Umbridge is no longer dominating your life,” Hermione said with a grin.

“Truly? You’ve done it?” Minerva looked more than pleased, even without seeing the results.

“Don’t freak out,” Hermione said softly.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, Hermione,” Minerva. “One of my old Masters was a gerbil.”

Hermione choked. “A… gerbil?”

“It made sense, really,” Minerva said. “He was such a fidgety fellow. Always moving and always digging around looking for artifacts. He should have been an Wizarding archaeologist instead of a Transfiguration Master.”

Hermione gave the elder witch a large disbelieving look.

“Not everyone’s inner animal is stately and dignified, my dear,” Minerva chuckled. “I consider myself fortunate that I’m a cat and not a pink fairy armadillo or an axolotl.”

Hermione choked again. “I… can’t imagine you as anything but a cat, I will confess.”

“Hopefully you won’t end up like Master Ceta,” Minerva ribbed. “She was a blue whale. Impressive in the extreme, but not horribly practical in a landlocked country.”

Hermione blushed, inwardly very happy that she already knew what she was, because the pep talk was making her paranoid that she was going to turn into Ankole-Watusi that would never get her huge horns through a door or between two trees for the rest of her life or a narwhal or other such seafaring creature that would be terribly limited on land.

“Well,” Minerva said, don’t keep an old woman waiting, dear.

“Psh,” Hermione scoffed. “You’re the furthest thing from old for a witch, and you know it.”

“Details, my dear, tut tut,” Minerva answered back.

Hermione cracked her neck and fell on all fours, taking her gryphon form as fluid as the change always was. She fanned her wings out, stretching her primary and secondary feathers out in a large spread that she pumped back and forth, creating a cyclone of wind. Her eagle beak clacked together as she let out a soft eagle call that ended in a droning roar. Her talons stretched out over the ground as her rear legs stretched out, claws digging into the dirt as she stretched out her muscles like a house cat in a sunbeam.

“Oh… my dear,” Minerva cooed. She reached out with her shaking hands and touched the mane of feathers around Hermione’s neck. They were silky soft to the touch. She ran her hands over Hermione’s body, touching her fur, her wings, and even the length of her tufted tail.

Hermione curled her tail in amusement, whapping it into Minerva’s body.

“You’re beautiful,” McGonagall said softly. “May I?” she asked as she touched Hermione’s front leg.

Hermione lifted her leg, setting her talons into Minerva’s hands, allowing her to run her hands across her curving claws and scaled eagle feet.

“Amazing,” Minerva said softly. “I had always believed you fierce, Hermione. I see you are that and so much more.”

Hermione gave a soft chirp, curving her head around to pull McGonagall closer to her back.

“Oh!” she protested. “You can’t mean…”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes over to peer at Minerva with an expression that didn’t quite look right on an eagle.

McGonagall swallowed hard as Hermione lowered herself to the ground, making it easier on the witch. Draco may be used to leaping up on her while in mid gallop, but she imagined the cat animagus was far more used to having all two or four respective feet on the ground.

Minerva slowly put her leg over her back and settled between her neck and wings. Her hands searched for something to cling to, and Hermione chirped as McGonagall found the woven crystal and cord necklace around her neck that Firenze had gifted her. Draco had found out it made an excellent emergency hand-hold in unexpected dives, and Hermione figured it would probably make poor Minerva feel a bit better having something to hold on to.

Hermione stood up completely, taking up a walking pace to get her passenger situated. She felt Minerva’s legs instinctively squeeze onto her sides as her hands clasped the cord around her neck. Good thing she wasn’t a horse. Squeezing usually meant “go!”

Once Minerva seemed to relax a little into the pace, Hermione broke into a run across the hillside, breaking through the grass and flowers with an increasing speed, and just as her passenger was getting used to that, she spread her wings and let the currents pull her upward and she leapt off the cliff side with an eagle scream of pleasure.

Minerva gave her own little scream, clinging to Hermione’s neck with a death-grip known only to land-faring creatures who had never known the joy of flight.

Hermione chuckled, her beak clacking in her amusement. She banked lazily using the thermals to do the work for her as her great wings spread out fully to catch every bit of air to keep her aloft.

Minerva’s grip on her body was slowly relaxing, and Hermione smiled, banking to give the Deputy Headmistress the view of Hogwarts that only birds and broom riders could truly appreciate. Draco had said, while he enjoyed the view from above on a broom, the feeling had while astride his gryphon sister was beyond anything he could put into words, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

McGonagall was laughing now. A free kind of laugh that Hermione felt within her as the stress of the last term’s horrible experiences with Umbridge were finally fading. While Severus’s mask was both impassive and snarky, Minerva always had the face of properness. She was a rule enforcer, a stern administrator, and she tempered her kind heart with the face of the official, but here in the skies, riding upon the back of her protege, she was free to be no one but Minerva McGonagall the Scottish Witch, not the Deputy Headmistress or the Head of Gryffindor House.

Hermione glided across the lake surface, allowing her talons and paws to skim the surface. She smiled to herself, and Minerva braved leaning over her side to touch the water with her hand as Hermione glided along.

As Hermione banked again, she circled the parapets of Hogwarts, having covered the area they had walked to get to the far hillside in a fraction of the time, and doubling back to their starting point, Minerva seemed to be completely at ease, having lost her tension somewhere between Hogwarts and the wilderness.

When Hermione finally touched down again, landing as gently as possible as to not tumble Minerva off into the weeds, the cat animagus leapt off her back and laughed. She threw her arms around Hermione’s neck feathers and buried her face into them. 

“Thank you, Hermione,” Minerva laughed into her neck. “I feel like a lass of twenty again.”

Hermione chirped softly, rubbing the top of her head against McGonagall’s chest, practically toppling the animagus over.

Minerva pressed her forehead to Hermione’s beak, and then, perhaps realising that some sort of intrinsic need had to be appeased, she turned into silver tabby and head bumped against Hermione’s chin, arched her back and rubbed up against her front legs, and then head bumped into her head once again.

Hermione flopped onto her side and wrapped her talons around the tabby cat, drawing her to her chest as her wings fanned out and over Minerva. Hermione tucked her head against the purring tabby, giving a soft rumbling purr of her own. And perhaps as a testament to any cat’s ability to fall asleep in the most seemingly precarious places, the silver tabby closed her eyes and purred herself into a well deserved nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daww… aren’t they cute? We’ll just leave them cuddled up together for now while I work on more homework, ok? Ok!  
> Also, Minerva is not completely unfamiliar with flying (for those of you who remember she was a Quidditch witch for some time.) She is not, however, accustomed to flying on the back of someone who has a mind of her own. That’s new!


	61. Inebriation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Harry have a heart-to-heart.  
> Someone was up to something in Hogsmeade.

Chapter 61: Inebrieation

“Hermione,” Harry greeted warmly.

Hermione froze in place and turned slowly as if expecting to greet a bugbear instead of young human wizard. He saw her wand hand twitch instinctively before she clenched her fist to keep her hand still.

“You must have just come back from a lesson with Professor Moody,” Harry said with a laugh. “Your entire body has ‘constant vigilance’ written all over it.”

Hermione seemed to be trying to determine which expression was best and decided upon a sheepish smile. “Hi, Harry,” she said. “Trust me when I say any lesson you survive from Alastor is a testament to fully operational paranoia.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Harry said.

“Speaking of which,” Hermione said, staring at Harry with a strangely unnerving gaze. “What was the first thing you ever said to me?”

Harry blinked. “Erm…” He looked at her stupidly.

Hermione laughed. “You’re not helping yourself, Harry. The first thing you ever said to me was your name.”

Harry sputtered, “How in bloody hell am I supposed to remember that?”

Hermione stared at him. “I did.”

Harry slumped. “You’re simply unnatural,” he muttered, then realising what he had just done again, stammered, “Merlin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… can we go to the Three Broomsticks and get a drink?”

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. “I have a better idea. Follow me.”

Harry looked at her strangely, but followed, and realised after a bit of walking that they were going to the Aerie. Hermione herded him towards a cosy looking table that was surrounded in what looked like the comfiest armchairs he’d ever seen. As he sat down in one, he felt like his body was being sucked into it.

“What do you want to drink, Harry?” Hermione asked. 

“I uh… I was thinking butterbeer to be honest. It’s what I usually get over at the Three Broomsticks,” Harry said.

“Hnn,” Hermione answered. “Tell you what, why don’t you try something Lazar concocted. I’m betting whatever he makes will surprise you.”

“Um…okay?” Harry agreed, feeling a little out of place.

“Relax, Harry,” Hermione laughed. “You look like I’m going to turn into a gorgon.”

Harry looked down at his lap. It wouldn’t really surprise him if she did, considering he still hadn’t managed to apologise for his horrible behaviour since before Christmas. It was already June, and he still hadn’t managed to spit it out.

Hermione disappeared around the corner and was shouting something in… Bulgarian? Since when did Hermione know Bulgarian?

A tall man that he recognised as Lazar, peered around the door of the next room. His hair was like the colour of sea foam, mixed haphazardly with green, blue, and white. 

“D a, sestrá ,” he said, raking his gaze over Harry like he was evaluating something. “Perfect drink, coming up.” He dove back into the next room, making Harry feel a bit self conscious. Someone could tell what drink to server someone by looking at them? That was a bit… unnerving.

Hermione’s laughter caught Harry’s attention as a chain of foreign words went back and forth, and finally Hermione was pushed out of the back room. 

“Vill bring food to table, sestrá,” another voice laughed. “Our turn to serve you.”

“Bah,” Hermione said as she wandered back into the room. “Aleksander insists on serving us himself as well as picking the entrees.”

Harry looked at her with wide eyes as she flopped into the chair in front of him, sinking into it with a sigh. “I didn’t even know they served food and drinks?”

Hermione chuckled. “Normally, people just buy what they want off the shelves and can use the tables here to drink or eat, but Aleksander refuses to let my friends go hungry on his watch, and Lazar refuses to let you ‘drink that swill from down the street.’”

Harry made a face. “I always thought the butterbeer was okay.”

“I’m sure it is in most Countries,” Hermione laughed.

“What’s wrong with it?” Harry asked, wondering if there was some horrible ingredient he didn’t know about.

“Flavour,” Lazar said, appearing like a spectre at the table with foaming mugs of “something.” He set them down in front of them with a grin. “Sestrá gets her favourite, as always. Sestrá’s friend gets something better than that rubbish down the street.”

Hermione laughed. Harry noticed that unlike when she was with himself and Ron, she reached out to touch the Bulgarian with a kind of ease that seemed utterly natural. She touched his sleeve, leaning into his shoulder, and Lazar wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, pressing his nose into her bushy hair. There was no awkwardness in her smile. He left them, walking off with a chuckle and some comment in Bulgarian.

“Lazar!” Hermione huffed to his back.

The man dashed into the next room, laughing.

“Sorry about that, Harry,” Hermione said with a laugh. “He said we had to start training you now to appreciate proper food and drink.” She took a sip of her drink, getting a little blue foam on her nose. She wiped it away with a giggle.

Harry took a tentative sip of the drink in front of him, slightly unnerved by how it not only had froth on top, but mist was cascading down the sides of the mug. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, however, he knew he would never go back to butterbeer. It was like tasting a sunset on a spring evening. He could smell the mountain flowers as the sensation of river water ran across his tongue with the taste of what seemed like cream and berries. “Wow,” Harry managed to say.

Hermione chuckled. “See what you’ve been missing?”

“I’ve never tasted anything like that in my life,” Harry said. “Even from Sirius’ special stash of drinks back at Grimmauld Place, and this is way better.”

Hermione grinned.

“You know, I trained with these guys for quite a bit, and they never once said they were doing all of this or that you knew them well,” Harry said, a little hurt to be left out of the loop.

“And you wouldn’t have until now,” Hermione said a bit sadly. She was smiling at him, but her eyes had an element of regret in them.

“It’s because of the Occlumency, isn’t it?” Harry realised.

Hermione nodded.

“Can you…” Harry started. “Tell me things now?”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed as she took another sip of her drink. “Some things, definitely. Other things, when I’m sure no one else will know them.”

Harry winced, realising that this is what had caused him to accuse her of not trusting him before. It was the cause of their epic row regarding his nightmares and him thinking it was none of her business. He was such an idiot. 

Harry sucked in his resolve. “Hermione, I’m sorry I accused you of not trusting me back before Christmas. I realise now that you’ve never meant to insult me, and I’ve realised multiple times since then that you’ve been looking out for me… even when I haven’t been doing the same. I’m sorry. I really am. I can take it now that there are some things you can’t tell me, and it has nothing to do with your friendship with me.”

Hermione was looking at him without moving. It was very predatory, he realised. It was like she was waiting for the perfect moment to leap upon something. What really unnerved him, however, is that he realised where he had seen it before. Snape stood the same way—silent and unmoving.

“Hermione, did you know you’ve really picked up some things from Snape that are kind of unnerving?” Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione lifted one brow.

“Like that!” Harry said, taking a swig of his drink.

Hermione stared at him silently, letting him dig himself in a bit deeper.

“Is that normal?” Harry asked. “The Apprenticeship bond? To pick up stuff like that?”

Hermione smirked. “I can’t say I’ve been in another Apprenticeship to know, Harry.”

“Right, sorry,” Harry said, turning away as he tripped over any semblance of suave in communications he ever thought he had. “Look, Hermione…” He looked at her with as much appeal as he could muster.

“It’s fine, Harry,” Hermione said with a warm smile. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t know, and I couldn’t tell you different.” She smirked at him. “Not that I didn’t want to right tell you off. I’m just glad you finally let yourself learn occlumency.”

Aleksander walked in carrying a large tray of food. He set down an impressive array of gravies and side dishes as well as a roast of something Harry wasn’t sure what it was, but it smelled divine.

“Dis should carry you over,” he said cheerfully, as he set down a basket of what looked like whole-grain bread. “Managed to keep Petya away from oven, so bread is not burnt.”

Hermione broke into a grin. Again, Harry noticed that Hermione reached out and touched his arm, leaning into Aleksander’s body. The flame-haired man smiled warmly, pulling her against him as he balanced the tray in his other hand. Pressing his face into her hair, he stroked her shoulder and then retreated into the back. “Enjoy food,  sestrá ,” he said as he left.

Harry picked up his fork. “What does ‘ sestrá ’ mean?”

“Sister,” Hermione said, cutting into her meat.

“Oh,” Harry replied, suddenly understanding the closeness and feeling kind of embarrassed that he thought she might be romantically involved with more than one bloke.

Hermione was arching a brow at him over her plate. “Harry Potter, did you think I was romantically involved with my brothers?”

Harry stuffed the roast into his mouth quickly, chewing extravagantly. Damn occlumency anyway. What good was it when his face betrayed everything? 

Hermione leaned in towards Harry. “I’m no more dating my brothers than I’m dating you, Harry,” she smirked at him. “Thanks for asking.”

Harry turned red as he continued to chew his food thoroughly.

After that bit of social awkwardness, Harry found he greatly enjoyed Aleksander’s cooking. He wasn’t even sure what he was eating, but it tasted as good if not better than whatever holiday fare he remembered with the Dursleys. It was definitely better than anything his Aunt Petunia had in the way of leftovers. As much as he adored the food at Hogwarts, there was something about the dishes in front of him that seemed richer somehow. It reminded him of home cooked meals at the Burrow. It was almost as if you could taste the love that went into it.

The bell on the door rang as an elderly Wizarding group walked in. Petya was at the counter almost immediately. “Velcome to Aerie,” he said cheerfully. “Please let me know if something specific you need.”

“Ah, young man,” an aged shorter witch greeted him. “I hear you have the best honey mead in town.”

“Best in Country,” Petya said immediately. “Vould you like to try?”

The taller, bald wizard nodded his head. “I would like to try this honey mead as well. We do not get to be in the area often.”

“You and your honey mead, Marchbanks,” one of the wizards said. “I prefer a radiant blackberry brandy.”

“And you shall have it,” Lazar said from the doorway as he came into the room with a flourish, holding an tray with small glasses and a brandy snifter. He poured a golden coloured liquid into the small glasses and a deep purple liquid into the snifter.

“Please,” Petya said with a move of his arm. “Have seat.”

The elderly wizards and witch sat down at the counter and sipped their drinks.

“You can have your brandy, Archibald,” Marchbanks scoffed. “I’m not leaving here without a case of this.”

“Would you happen to have something sweeter?” The wizard in the middle said after he drank down the honey mead. “Perhaps something with a bit of fruit in it?”

“Hrm,” Lazar said, picking a bottle from the shelf and unstopping it. He decanted some into a clean glass and pushed it towards the wizard.

Archibald stared over the middle wizard’s shoulder. “Well, come on, man. Drink it up, Tofty, and tell us how it is.”

The elder wizard made a face at his companion but took a big swig of the offered drink, downing it one gulp. “Merlin above,” he gasped. “It’s like rolling through a field of spring strawberries and drinking cream right off the top of the milk at the same time. What is this called?”

Lazar and Petya exchanged glances. “Strawberry Field Frolic Running Accidentally Into a Yak.”

The wizards and witch laughed whole-heartedly.

“Let me try some of what he had,” Marchbanks said.

“Me too,” Archibald said with a grin.

The both of them downed the glass in a few seconds, slamming the glass down on the counter.

“I admit, after laughing at the name, I cannot think of a better one,” Archibald laughed.

“Here, here,” Marchbanks said. “I think I’ll have to take a case of that too. Do you ship to residences?”

Lazar smirked.

Petya grinned. “Ve have… private shipping service, da.”

“Excellent,” Marchbanks said. She stood and began to look around the store. “I’ll take a case of that wonderful honey mead and your… strawberry field frolic running accidentally into a yak.” She handed Lazar a parchment from her robes. “And I will take a bottle of the mead to go with me tonight.”

Lazar bowed his head. “It shall be done.”

“I’ll take a case of the strawberry yak,” Tofty said, passing over a piece of parchment.

“And I will take a half case of each, if you would please,” Archibald said, “but can you have it delivered to the Guest Quarters up at Hogwarts?”

Lazar’s mouth quirked upward. “Of course,” he said smoothly.

“You better be sharing that, Archibald,” Tofty huffed. “I don’t want to have to scrape you off the floor before we test the children.”

“Har, har,” the wizard replied, placing his thumb on his nose at Tofty.

“‘Do you thumb your nose at me, sir?’” Tofty grunted.

Archibald grinned at him. “‘I thumb my nose.’”

“Stop it, the both of you,” Marchbanks scolded from the next aisle over. “You two are impossible.” 

The two elderly wizards chuckled.

Petya was scrawling totals out on parchment and set out receipts for each wizard and witch.

Marchbanks returned to the counter. “I believe I’m going to take this little guy as well,” she said. She placed a miniature animated flying horse on the counter. The horse nickered and pranced on the counter. “My granddaughter’s birthday is coming up. She’ll love it, if I can get the willpower to give it to her.”

“You could always get two!” Tofty said, holding up another of the winged horses in his hands.

“Do not tempt me, foul demon,” Marchbanks hissed at Tofty. She grinned at Petya as she handed over a stack of coins.

Archibald threw a bag of coins on the counter along with a jar of spices. “This cover it, lads?”

Petya picked through the coins and pushed half of them back to him.

“Nah, you keep it, lads,” the elder wizard said. “Take it to cover the trouble of delivering all of our things.”

Petya bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you for your business.”

“Oh and you will have more of it, rest assured,” Tofty said, throwing down a stack of coins. “I plan to tell the office about this place once we leave Hogwarts.” Tofty held out an adorable looking winged horse in front of Marchbanks and had it prance on his hand in her direction.

Marchbank’s face turned red, and she snatched it in her hand, causing the little horse to make a surprised sound. “I’ll take this one too,” she muttered, putting more coins on the counter.

The two winged horses nuzzled each other, whickering at each other in greeting.

Petya handed her her change. “Vould you like bag?”

The winged horses were sitting on her opposing shoulders, nickering at each other.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Marchbanks said with a smile as she grabbed the one bottle of mead she was taking with her.

The elderly wizards picked up their things and left, chattering amongst themselves.

Lazar and Petya sat on either side of Hermione as the group left. “Best sale all day, sestrá,” Petya said warmly.

“So I saw,” Hermione chuckled, nudging Petya with her elbow. “I see Lazar’s brewing skills has yet again won over the masses.”

“Can’t help I brew quality drinks!” he protested.

“So you do,  bátko ,” Hermione laughed. 

“Can I admit your drink names are pretty hilarious?” Harry added to the conversation.

“What?” Lazar protested. “Perfectly logical names for drinks.”

Three pairs of of eyes broadcasting polite disagreement were cast upon Lazar.

Lazar waved his hands. “Must admit, at least appropriately described names.”

Hermione looked upward. “I will give them that.”

Lazar smiled charmingly at Hermione.

“I can’t believe you just sold four cases of alcohol to the Wizarding Examination Board,” Hermione snickered.

Harry choked on the drink he was finishing. “What!”

“You didn’t know?” Hermione asked.

“I… no… I didn’t get a good look at them when they arrived,” Harry said.

Hermione chuckled as Harry blushed.

The door bells jingled, and Viktor walked in the front door.

“At last you come, brother!” Petya bellowed.

Viktor froze in the doorway, staring towards the tables with wide eyes. “Vat? Did not do it.”

“Ve sell three cases of Lazar’s high quality booze, brother,” Petya laughed.

“Guess who gets to deliver?” Lazar asked.

Viktor narrowed his eyes. “Vhy always me getting strapped down vith cases of booze?”

“Because ve love you,  drugar !” Lazar and Viktor chimed.

Viktor eyed his brothers. “To death,” he replied sombrely.

“Dat too!” they said together.

Viktor slumped his shoulder and shook his head.

Hermione stood up and walked into the back. “I’ll help strap you down.”

“Hnn,” Viktor said. “At least night getting better.” He followed Hermione into the back.

Harry’s eyes went really wide as Lazar and Petya howled their laughter throughout the store.

“Velcome to Aerie, Harry,” Petya said.

“More than just place to practice occlumency,” Lazar said.

The two Durmstrang grinned at Harry as he attempted to burrow into the armchair.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry met up with Ron and Ginny at the Three Broomsticks later that evening. Many Hogwarts students were getting in their last hurrahs before having to head back to the school. Harry, having been stuffed with tasty food and drink at the Aerie, was satisfied watching Ron and Ginny both eat and drink. While they tried to get him to partake of both, Harry insisted that he was more than stuffed, and if he drank anything else, he’d be in the loo for the next few hours.

Ginny, Harry noticed, seemed to getting a little tipsy on her butterbeer, which was puzzling as he knew there wasn’t that much alcohol in it. It was considered an okay drink for the students of Hogwarts due to that, and unless Ginny had suddenly transformed into a house-elf, he was kind of puzzled as to why she was showing the effects of inebriation.

“Geshhh, Hahree,” Ginny slurred. “Why you lookin’ at me like thawt?”

Ron and Harry exchanged puzzled and concerned glances. Harry leaned over and sniffed the mug Ginny was drinking out of.

“What are you drinking, Ginny?” Harry asked.

“Buhtahburr,” she answered.

“I wish Hermione was here,” Harry confessed. “She could smell if there was something in her drink.”

“Course dere’s someting in mah drink,” Ginny gushed. “Beer.”

Ron was shaking his head. Ginny was a lot of things, but she wasn’t one to over-indulge in alcoholic beverages, and the last thing either of them knew of her drinking habits, it was limited to what Hogwarts served and butterbeer, neither of which caused severe inebriation.

“Come on, Ron,” Harry said. “Let’s get her to the Aerie. Otherwise we’re going to have to explain to Professor Vector why Ginny is drunk.”

Ron gave him a wide-eyed expression. Short of Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall, Septima Vector was probably the strictest professor in Hogwarts. It didn’t help that her speciality was Arithmancy… At least McGonagall was easier to approach, usually, and Snape… well everyone knew to avoid him by default.

“Come on, Ginny,” Ron said. “Let’s go visit ‘ermione.”

“Oh, yes,” Ginny said, standing up and practically falling over. “That would be loverly.”

Harry curled his lip is bafflement, and got on one side of Ginny as Ron got on the other. “Come on, Ginny. Let’s go… that’s it.”

It was hard not to look like two blokes carrying a drunken witch, no matter how you threw the dice, so Harry and Ron hustled to make the trip as short as possible, pulling their hoods over the heads so at least they didn’t scream “Hi, my name is Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and we’re totally dragging Ron’s drunken sister across Hogsmeade.” Alas they were still wearing there school uniforms, and all Harry could hope for was that someone like Malfoy didn’t spot them and go running back to Professor Septima to tattle on them.

As they reached the Aerie, the sign in the window was flipped to “closed,” but Harry knocked on the door loudly, shifting his weight to support Ginny, who was now drooling on his shoulder in a wonderful interpretation of Cerberus.

Harry and Ron knocked together, louder, causing Ginny to moan, “Yurr too loudshhhhhhhhh!”

“Coming,” said a voice from above. One of Hermione’s Durmstrang brothers had heard the knocking.

They heard footsteps coming down stairs, rustling, and an incantation, and the store lights came on. A sleepy looking wizard with flame-like hair looked out the door at them.

“Aleksander,” Harry said. “We need your help.”

One eyebrow lifted into his flame coloured hair. “One moment,” he muttered, waving his wand around the door.

Ginny was coming around, somewhat and grunted, staring at her reflection on the door. “Whaddya lookin’ at sshhhh?” she slurred.

There was a click of the door lock, and Ginny reached for the door at the same time as Harry, only when she pulled it back, it smacked Harry square in the face, knocking him backward. Ginny ploughed into the store, drunkenly, dragging Ron behind her.

“Ginny, no!” Ron said, trying to keep her from tumbling into the shelves.

Harry lay spread eagle on his back, unconscious.

Aleksander stared at Ron trying to keep Ginny from shaking the jars of food like snow globes and then at the unconscious Harry, trying to figure out which problem was the most important. Aleksander yelled things in a chain of loud Bulgarian, and multiple footsteps came running down from the upstairs living quarters.

Petya and Valko helped Ron with Ginny while Lazar helped Aleksander with Harry, dragging him in by his shoulders and ankles. Viktor and Hermione came trudging down the stairs, still shaking the sleep off their eyes, and tried to focus on the scene before their eyes.

“Take them to the basement,” Viktor said. “I will section off areas for them to recover.”

“I’ll transfigure the beds,” Hermione said, trudging down the stairs ahead of them.

They managed to get Ginny down the stairs without her tripping down them, and miraculously got Harry down the stairs without tripping over Ginny.

Hermione had the beds transfigured before they even got the both of them down the stairs, and Viktor had transfigured part of the practice room into an area with two guest beds. They got Ginny settled just in time for her to hurl into the bucket Valko had brought over.

Lazar and Aleksander put Harry on his guest bed, and tucked him in. Viktor ran his wand over him a few times to make sure there wasn’t anything that required medical attention from a professional healer, while Hermione ran her wand over Ginny as she hurled into the bucket. To be safe, she ran her wand over the bucket as well, checking to see if there was something odd in whatever it was she was retching back up.

“Someone slipped her an inebriation potion,” Hermione said, wincing as Ginny hurled again. At least she wasn’t vomiting slugs, not that any sort of hurling was a positive experience.

“Got to be kidding me,” Valko replied. “Why would someone drink potion to get drunk?”

“Probably as a bad joke,” Ron said, remembering his brothers had once slipped him the potion mixed with some sort of infatuation potion in his birthday punch so he’d yodel his heart out to the Muggle neighbour’s dairy cow. He’d apparently proposed to the poor animal too. His brothers had taken pictures so he couldn’t forget it if he tried, and oh had he tried.

“Horrible joke,” Lazar said, vanishing the contents of the hurling bucket.

“Harry be okay,” Viktor said. “May have sore head when wake up, but nothing life threatening.”

“That’s a relief,” Hermione said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Ginny was finally done hurling her guts out into the bucket and was now passed out on the bed.

Hermione pulled the blanket over her and made sure she was sleeping on her side instead of her back. “There is a bed over there for you, Ron,” she said. “The restroom is around the corner here.”

“Thanks,” Ron said tiredly. “If I find out Fred and George slipped her something, I’m going to… tell my mother.”

Eyebrows were raised.

Ron shook his head tiredly. “Trust me. Anything I could do to them will pale in comparison to what my mother will do if she finds out my brothers drugged her daughter and caused Harry to end up… like that.” He pointed at the bed where Harry was unconscious.

“Well, I’m going to send an owl to Minerva so she knows what happened in case Professor Vector gets wind of half truth stories and goes to tell her about it,” Hermione said tiredly. “Then, I’m going back to bed.”

“Thanks, ‘mione,” Ron said tiredly.

“Hnn,” Hermione said and trudged up the stairs. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Ron said as he flopped on the bed that Hermione had made for him.

The Durmstrang retreated up the stairs as well.

As he extinguished the light and lay his head back on the pillow, Ginny and Harry began to snore.

“Bloody figures,” Ron groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. “Why couldn’t I have been the one knocked out by the door?”


	62. Vision Unwanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets a vision, and he's not happy about it.  
> There are strange goings on after the butterbeer incident.

Chapter 62: Vision Unwanted

Hermione blearily grunted as the Daily Prophet landed on her head as the delivery owl dropped it upon her as she had her head down on the breakfast table.

Valko picked up the paper, rubbing Hermione’s head with his fingers. “Not sleep well,  sestrá ?” he chuckled.

“Not sleep enough, more like,” Hermione grumbled.

“Poor thing,” he crooned in Bulgarian. “At least you don’t have a hangover like your friend in our basement.”

Hermione snorted as her hand moved to touch his as he soothed her head. She squeezed his hand sleepily. She wasn’t sure when their conversations had switched to a mixture of English and Bulgarian, but she found it comforting to hear them prattle on a bout random things in Bulgarian and include her in the conversation. She also had to admit, she had five really big reasons to learn some fluency in the language, and those reasons often slept under the same roof as her, not to mention since her relationship with Viktor was anything but temporary, she felt like it was only fair she step up and learn to communicate using their native language instead of relying on them to always use hers.

“We had that heart to heart last night,” Hermione said into the counter, barely understandable in any language.

“Yes, and how did that go?” Valko asked. “Helps if you talk to me instead of the counter,” he added, turning her head to the side.

Hermione sleepily turned her eyes up to him. “Awkwardly. I forgave him, but it still hurts a bit.”

“Always does,” Valko replied softly. “For a time, anyway. Friends forgive. It is the nature of friends, just as fights come and go.”

“You’re always the voice of reason, brother,” she replied.

“Is my earthy nature,” Valko said with a grin.

Hermione groaned, but she hugged him. She unrolled the paper that had fallen on her head. 

-o-o-o-o-o-

Drunken Revelry Abounds at Hogsmeade

A prankster was busy last night in the small village of Hogsmeade. Reports of overly inebriated wizards and witches had the town buzzing with attempts to control the damage caused by over twenty wizards and witches in various states of drunkenness rampaging across the pastoral village.

No one was apparently safe from the prank, as Madam Puddifoot was rescued from the fountain where she was bathing with a sizable fleet of pool ponies. The proprietor of the Hog’s Head Inn said someone stole the hog’s head from his establishment, which was later found on top of the head of one Soladan Grimbleforth, one of the managers of Gladrags Wizardwear who was chasing people around the streets o f Hogsmeade with nothing but a hog’s head and his knickers on. Madam Potage was found professing her undying love to a streetlamp in the early morning hours, and apparently a number of Hogwarts students who had been visiting the village this weekend on one of their scheduled visits, had succumbed to various states of inebriation and out of character behaviour. 

And pool parties in the fountains was not the only reported shenanigans last night. Apparently, in their drunken states, student Mr. Blaise Zabini married Romilda Vane using one of the Wizarding World’s worst historical artifacts created by the ancient Ministry of Magic— the Ring of Devotion and Matrimony. The ring, once used to seal official political marriages, guaranteed faithfulness of an pre-arranged couple. To make matters worse, three other wizards, a Mr. Theodore Nott, Mr. Seamus Finnigan, and Mr. Vincent Crabbe immediately challenged each other to duels of honour over Ms. Vane, knocking each other out. All four wizards are being treated at the Hogwart’s Hospital for damage and aftereffects of what seems to be a rather strange and unstable mixture resembling Amortentia. Representatives from the Department of Magical Artifacts have come to attempt removal of the Ring of Devotion and Matrimony, however the situation is quite complicated, as the rings were forged to be immune to such attempts.

Miss Vane, now legally bound as Mrs. Zabini, is completely hysterical and being questioned by authorities on how she happened to be carrying around such an artifact to begin with. While she denies knowing where it came from, multiple amazingly sober witnesses attested that Mr. Zabini pulled the ring out from her own bag, professed his undying love, and placed the ring on her finger before anyone realised what was going on. The new Mrs. Zabini swears that she’d never seen the bag before in her life, and that she had just been having a few drinks with her friend Lavender Brown and everything went pear-shaped. It wasn’t long after this testament, that the new Mrs. Zabini seemed to succumb to the effects of the ring, and was frantic to see her husband and tend to him.

Fellow student Lavender Brown, who was unavailable for comment at the time of this article, had been rescued from running around the fields of Hogsmeade, where she was professing her undying love to a Scottish hare.

High Potion Master Aragost Farmantle from the Halls of Mastery has been called in to analyse the potion that may have been used on all the affected parties, but initial reports are grim, as the effects had already started to wear off by time he was called in to look. Some hope remains that by analysing the various bits of the potion that may remain on said clothing will provide clues as to the true nature of the potion that afflicted so many wizards and witches last night with such a wide range of random effects.

-o-o-o-o-o- 

Hermione set the paper down, unable to read more. “I think it was good that Ginny’s only problem was being overly drunk.”

Valko picked up the paper and began to read. He stared at the paper as though it were written in ancient cuneiform. “What is wrong with people in this Country?” he muttered.

Hermione shook her head.

Valko put the paper down. “This is why you only drink what I or brothers make for you,” he said in the same tone as one would say “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

Hermione patted him on the arm. “Trust me, I’m not drinking anything in public I haven’t tested first.”

“Probably good idea,” Valko said in English. “Staying inside shop. Safer.”

Hermione laughed. “If only,  bátko .”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was inside a room that was as tall and wide as a cathedral. Shelves upon shelves surrounded him, all holding countless glass spheres. He was moving fast amongst the aisles, passing number ninety-seven and turning along between two rows…

In front of him lay a shape on the floor. A figure was writhing upon the floor like an injured beast. Harry’s body was torn between fear and excitement. 

The black shape upon the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a longfingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm… heard the high, cold voice say, “ Crucio !” (OotP 727)

The shape in front of him was screaming in agony. It attempted to move, to stand, or to flee, but it failed. Harry felt himself laughing maniacally. He raised his wand, cutting off the curse, and he sneered at the groaning figure on the ground as he struggled and lay still. 

“Lord Voldemort is waiting…”

With exaggerated slowness, the crumpled figure in front of him raised his head and stared at him. His face was swollen, bloodstained, and twisted in pain, but his eyes were accusatory.

“You’ll have to kill me,” whispered Sirius.

“Undoubtedly I shall in the end,” said the cold voice. “But you will fetch it for me first, Black... You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream...” (OotP 728)

Harry bolted awake from his nightmare with a scream, clutching his head as his scar burned him. He hadn’t had a nightmare like this in months. Why now? Wait… where was he?

“Whoa, mate, are you all right?” Ron said, having bolted up in the bed nearby.

Harry winced, clutching his scar. “Sirius is in trouble. I saw it.”

Hurried footsteps clambered down the staircase. Hermione and Valko cast light into the room, sending out balls of mage lights. 

“Harry?” Hermione said. “What’s going on?”

“Sirius,” Harry said. “He’s in trouble! Voldemort… he’s torturing him.” He tried to stand immediately, but his head throbbed and he had to sit back down.

“Ok, Harry,” Hermione said with a deadly calm. “Let’s make sure before we panic, okay?”

“I saw it, Hermione!” Harry said. “Just like before with Mr. Weasley!”

Hermione seemed to be looking into his soul, her eyes were dark. “Humour me, Harry. It will take just a minute.”

Harry glared at her, wondering why she was so eager to run off and save Mr. Weasley, but not Sirius.

Hermione took floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the nearby fireplace. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

The floo sprung to life in flames.

“Sirius!” Hermione yelled into the fire. Nothing.

Harry struggled to get back up again. “See? He’s not there. We have to go! He’s at the ministry!”

“Sirius, please! I swear to Merlin, if you are shagging a bird while we really need you to answer this floo!”

“Agh!” Sirius’s face came through the floo. It looked wet and… soapy. “I was taking the most glorious bubble bath of my life, Hermione, what is so important at this ungodly hour?”

Hermione let out her breath slowly. “Harry had a dream vision about you being tortured.”

“I assure you, I am not being tortured,” Sirius said calmly. “Save the view Kreacher is getting of me in my starkers.”

“Look, can we floo over?” Hermione asked. “I think Harry would really like to be sure you’re okay.”

Sirius facepalmed. “Sure, sure, just… come on through. But I’m going to hop into the shower before I lose any more of my dignity.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, thank you, Sirius.” She turned to Harry. “Come on, let’s go figure this out.”

Harry looked at her as though she had sprouted a second head. “How… how did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure, Harry,” Hermione huffed. “I suspected.”

“But…” Harry started.

“Harry, you haven’t had one nightmare of vision since you started really practising occlumency before bed,” Hermione explained. “Then, the one night you are knocked out cold without being able to use your occlumency before bed, you have a strangely disturbing dream that puts your godfather specifically in danger that has you wanting to run Merlin knows where in your knickers to save him. Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

Harry looked down at himself and realised she was right about the knickers and grabbed the nearby quilt to cover himself up. “Okay… I may not have thought that all through.”

Hermione eyed Ginny with a critical eye. “Brother, do you mind watching over Ginny?”

“Will do, sestrá,” Valko said with a nod.

“Ron, do you mind going in first, since you are fully dressed?” Hermione said. 

Ron nodded and took a handful of powder. He stepped into the green flames shortly after and disappeared.

Harry, who had miraculously found his pants and thrown on his uniform, stepped in after.

Hermione squared her shoulders and gave Valko a look.

“Do not worry, my sister,” Valko said. “I will tell Viktor why you had to go so early.”

“ Blagodarya ,” Hermione thanked him then stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

Valko looked at the still obliviously passed out form of Ginny on the guest bed. “At least you did not wake up naked on top of cathedral in Prague,” he said sombrely. 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“It is a very well crafted memory,” Snape said as Alastor pulled his head out of the pensieve. 

“I agree,” Moody said with a frown. “A little too well crafted, if you ask me.”

“If it was crafted by You-Know-Who,” Lupin said. “It was crafting using real places he had seen. Some of the pieces were too realistic.”

Arthur drummed his fingers on the long table. “The place is unmistakable. It’s the very place I was attacked. The Hall of Prophecy.”

“Did you alert the guards at the Hall, Arthur?” Alastor asked.

“Yes, Moody,” Arthur said. “There was nothing. No trace of anyone.”

“You’ve had guards doubled there since Arthur was attacked,” Molly pressed. “Did they see nothing last night?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “But they were not harmed either, nor did they wake up with blanks in their memory.”

“Why aisle ninety-seven specifically?” Remus asked.

“That’s where the prophecy is,” Sirius said as he pulled his bathrobe around him.

“Which prophecy?” Molly said. “There are millions of them housed in that hall!”

“THE prophecy, Molly,” Sirius said.

“The one that ended the first war,” Alastor growled. “In blood.”

Molly paled. “Why even keep such a horrible thing?”

Harry spoke up. “Why does he want me to go there? Can’t he just take it and leave?”

“All of the prophecies are charmed so that only the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy and the people who made or to whom the prophecy is about can lift them off the shelves,” Arthur said.

“The prophecy,” Harry said. “Is about me?”

“Aye, Harry,” Moody said.

“But… if it’s about V…voldemort,” Harry said. “Isn’t he to whom the prophecy is about as well?”

“If he’s been trying to get it and failing, apparently the prophecy is more about you than him,” Arthur said.

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry said. “You were hurt protecting it, weren’t you?”

Arthur looked at Harry with a tired expression and nodded.

“I’m so tired of having to be protected from everything,” Harry said. “I want to fight too. I want to mean something.”

“If you did not ‘mean’ something, Mr. Potter,” Snape said impassively. “Do you think these fine people would be doing what they do for you?”

Harry cast his eyes down, having obviously not thought of it that way.

Ron looked at Snape with a puzzled expression, perhaps having never to hear something of that nature coming from Snape.

“No, sir, it’s just…” Harry gritted his teeth. “I don’t like feeling helpless.”

“Protect your mind, Potter,” Snape said, his dark eyes boring into him. “That is the greatest weapon the Dark Lord has against us. If he cannot get in, you save us all.”

“And if he does get in,” Tonks said grimly. “All of us are in danger.”

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He nodded grimly.

“I will talk with with the Keeper and see if I can get a copy of that prophecy,” Arthur said. “With all the drama going on with Fudge, there are lot of people who would like to support us now that didn’t before. We’re getting more people interested in helping us behind the scenes and that is a good thing. Maybe we can gleen something off it before You-Know-Who does.”

Hermione stared at Snape a moment, and the dark wizard nodded to her. 

“Tell them,” he said softly.

Hermione leaned in. “Maybe we should give him what he wants,” she said softly.

“No! We would never him take the prophecy!” Alastor said, slamming his fist down. “We haven’t been guarding it for a decade to just give the bloody thing to his Royal Madness!”

“I’m not saying give him the real one, Alastor,” Hermione said, her voice was a low rumble, her expression impassive like her Master’s. “I’m saying give him a prophecy. A well crafted, believable, yet fatally flawed, prophecy.”

Molly looked at Hermione like she’d just spoken in tongues. Remus looked smug. Moody looked impressed. Sirius grinned.

“You’ve been rubbing off on her, Severus,” Sirius said with a low chuckle.

Severus tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “As exciting as this meeting is,” he said with a rumble. “My Apprentice and I must return to Hogwarts to prepare the laboratories for O.W.L. examinations and N.E.W.T.s for all the happy students. Shall we leave these two gentlemen in your capable hands?” His eyes flicked to Harry and Ron.

Grunts of agreement passed down the table. Alastor waved them both away dismissively.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said softly. “You may wish to come with us to check on Ginny before we go back to Hogwarts.”

“What?” Molly said, standing up in haste. “What has happened to her?”

“Get your Daily Prophet this morning, luv?” Sirius said with a smirk on his face.

“Hermione, do not tell me my daughter was sharing a fountain pool party with Madam Puddifoot?” Molly screeched.

Hermione shook her head. “Alas, she was only horribly inebriated. Sorry to disappoint.”

Molly relaxed, ceasing her assault to Hermione’s ears.

“Ron, why didn’t you get drunk with the rest of the butterbeer drinkers?” Harry asked, suddenly realising his friend hadn’t succumbed to the potion.

Ron looked sheepish. “I was drinking that honey mead that everyone was talking about. I just charmed it to look like butterbeer, so I didn’t look out of place.” When his parents shot him dagger-like glares, he waved his hands. “The non-alcoholic kind, I swear!”

Hermione stepped into the floo. “Aerie.”

As she disappeared, Molly stood in the flames, threw down her powder, and followed her.

Severus, having to lean over to fit in the hearth, looked exasperated. “Aerie,” he grunted, throwing down his floo powder.

As the three of them disappeared, Harry slammed his forehead down on the table. “Why can’t I just have a normal weekend like everyone else?”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius grunted. “You interrupted the best bubble bath of my life this morning.”

“Too much information, Padfoot,” Moody snapped.

Harry and Ron exchanged amused glances. 

“I think I can speak for all of us older sods, Harry,” Remus said. “None of us have had a ‘normal’ weekend or even life in a long time.”

Harry slumped and nodded. “Point.”

“Hopefully, if we stick through this,” Remus said. “We’ll have plenty of time to remember what normal is.”

Harry nodded with determination. “Right.”

 

 

 

 


	63. Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has to deal with Slytherin post-inebriation.  
> Draco and Hermione go on a mission in the wilderness.

_“Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in_ happiness. _” - Euripides_

 

**Chapter 63: Hangovers**

“Crabbe!” Draco yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Crabbe cooed. “I picked them all for her!”

Draco’s face twisted into something both appalled and horrified as he saw Vincent Crabbe, Mud-blood hater and wannabe Dark Wizard, sitting surrounded in picked flowers and utterly convinced that the love of his life, who was very recently forcibly married to Blaise Zabini, was rightfully his.

Draco wasn’t sure what are more horrifying… Blaise Zabini being married, or the fact that Crabbe wasn’t letting that stop him from trying to win over Vane’s affections.

“Goyle!” Draco snapped. “What the hell happened when you were in Hogsmeade?”

Goyle scratched his head, looking confused. “We were just sitting around at the Three Broomsticks, Draco. I swear. Most of us were drinking butterbeers, but I was drinking this really great cherry soda made by some Bulgarian bloke that Rosmerta keeps on tap now.”

“Go on,” Draco said.

Goyle winced as Crabbe started cooing at the flowers. “It was all sudden really. I mean, we’d been drinking half the night, but suddenly, they started acting really drunk. Blaise slammed his empty mug down and said ‘I’m gonna marry that witch,’ and just walks over and starts spouting love sonnets. Then Theodore gets up and says he’s not going to let Blaise steel his witch, and Seamus from another table and Crabbe get into it saying how she’s the most lovely siren in the seas and they can’t live without her. Somehow Blaise found a ring in Romilda’s purse, and he had it on her finger and proposed to her right there in the tavern.”

Draco looked at Goyle with a look he normally reserved for acts of extreme stupidity on his or Crabbe’s part.

Goyle looked sheepish. “I swear, Draco, we didn’t do a thing to provoke it.”

“Seeing Blaise smitten with Romilda Vane is bad enough,” Draco said. “Seeing Romilda Vane attached to his face is even worse. And seeing this idiot,” he said pointing at Crabbe, “and that guy,” he said pointing at Theodore Nott, “acting like love-sick dunderheads is really making me want to start punching people.”

Goyle gave him a half shrug and apologetic face.

“Did Pansy go with you? What about Millicent and Daphne?”

“Yeah, they all did, but they just got exceedingly drunk,” Goyle said. “Pansy threw up on Professor Vector, and it all went downhill from there.”

“So they’re…” Draco began.

“Serving detentions for the next month,” Goyle said.

“How many points did we lose?” Draco said, eyes narrowing.

Goyle fidgeted.

“Goyle!”

“Seventy-five altogether,” Goyle confessed.

Draco’s hand twitched. “This Vane witch,” he grunted. “You see her do anything?”

Goyle shook his head. “We were all relaxing and enjoying the time without Umbridge. For once, we were all getting along.”

Draco sighed. “I’m glad my mother had me meeting her Diagon Alley to run errands. I do not want to be married or duelling someone only to wake up in the hospital wing as I spout love sonnets.”

“Your father would pop a kelpie right out of his head if you did,” Goyle agreed. “Especially considering she’s Gryffindor.”

“There are worse things than Gryffindors, Goyle,” Draco grunted.

“Hufflepuff,” Goyle snorted.

Draco rolled his eyes and then looked at Crabbe, who was plucking petals off a daisy and chanting, “She loves me. She loves me not.” Draco managed to look even more horrified.

“I hope that Potion Master from the Halls of Mastery comes up with an antidote soon,” Draco muttered. “I’m not sure I want to listen to this for the next day let alone anything longer.”

“Didn’t you say it was wearing off?” Goyle said with a frown.

“The paper said it was,” Draco muttered. “Truth is, there were a combination of potions laced in that butterbeer, and all of them combined to do… that.” He jabbed his thumb in Crabbe’s direction.

“You’d think your godfather would just come up with something,” Goyle said. “He’s a Potion Master, after all.”

Draco shook his head. “He’s not going to step on the other guy’s toes… Farmantle was it?” Draco frowned, trying to remember. “He’s got enough to do, anyway. Speaking of things to do, I need you to do something for me, Goyle.”

“Yeah, what?” Goyle asked, watching Crabbe blow dandelion seeds around the Common Room with rising horror.

“Find out if it was Vane who spike the beer,” Draco sneered. “If it was her, she cost us seventy-five points and humiliating publicity. I want to know who to hex.”

“You sure, Draco?” Goyle asked. “She’s married to Zabini, and he’s still under the effects of that ring. He might actually try and take you on.”

“Just find out,” Draco snapped. “We’ll figure out what to do, if it was her, later… after we get some normality going around here again.”

“Your show, mate,” Goyle grunted, standing up and wandering off.

Theodore was singing some sort of Ode to Vane’s Hair, now, and Crabbe looked like he was about to murder him for making up an ode to “his” witch.

Draco rubbed the area between his eyes.

He really needed a nap before he shifted and envenomed someone… Time to go sneak back into the Lair. It was the one place he could guarantee that love-potion sick House-mates were not going to interrupt him.

Draco stood and slipped out of the Common Room with a sigh of relief. Maybe his sister could Obliviate the memory of Crabbe surrounded in flowers, plucking daisies. He could only hope she would be so kind.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I think I’m in love,” Ron cooed.

Harry’s head snapped upward at the sound of Ron sounding love sick with a panicked expression.

“That’s the longest Pig has remained quiet in the history of… ever,” Ron said with amazement.

Pigwidgeon, an aerial trick artist extraordinaire and hyperactive feathered git, was sitting quietly on the perch nearby as they were studying.

Harry blinked. Ron was right. “Is he okay? That’s a little strange for him.”

“’Mione visited to check on Ginny and give her some sort of potion to help her with her hangover,” Ron said. “That little hippogriff told him off and then some. He hasn’t made a peep or did anything crazy in hours.”

“How is Ginny?” Harry said with some concern. “I heard the girls from Slytherin are still bemoaning their hangovers.”

“She’s doing better than Lavender and Pavarti,” Ron smirked. “Also… way better than Romilda.”

Harry smirked. “I hear you mom didn’t want to let Ginny come back to Hogwarts until she was sure she was all right.”

“She’s always been over protective of Ginny, not that she hasn’t been protective of any of us,” Ron said. “I think she’s more protective of Ginny because she’s the only girl.”

Harry smirked. “Ginny is far from helpless.”

“Yeah, well…” Ron said, scratching his head. “If it wasn’t for Hermione promising to check up on Ginny, I don’t think Ginny would be resting here instead of the Burrow.”

“I hope she’s okay for tomorrow,” Harry said. “We get to start our O.W.L.s bright and early.”

Ron pushed his study material off to the side. “I’m tired of O.W.L.s and I haven’t even taken them yet. Hey, what’s this?” Ron pulled a bottle of some sort of drink out of Harry’s bag. “Harry, did you smuggle in alcohol?”

“No!” Harry said, snatching the bottle and cradling it. “I’m saving it for after O.W.Ls. It’s a really good drink.”

“Well,” Ron pouted. “What is it?”

“Blueberry Frolic Tripping Over a Mint Patch and Landing In the Elderberries After Slamming into a Citrus Tree,” Harry muttered.

“What?” Ron peered at the bottle. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Harry blushed. “No, I’m not.”

Ron’s eye twitched. “I’m afraid to let that crazy Bulgarian recommend me anything. The honey mead seemed tasty enough, but…”

Harry shook his head. “Believe me when I tell you that the crazier the name, the better the drink. Say what you want about the ‘crazy’ Bulgarians, but Lazar knows his mixology.”

“Hey,” Ron said, poking Harry with a serious face. “What’s bothering you, mate? It’s more than just the exams.”

Harry sighed. Again, he realised that while he had a pretty good grip on his Occlumency now, he was not doing well with not revealing things through his facial expressions. “I’m just… I’ve worked really hard to shield my mind. And in one night, all the occlumency in the world didn’t save me from almost walking straight into the dragon’s mouth.”

“I don’t think you can plan for being clocked by a door, mate,” Ron said. “It’s not like you were slacking on purpose.”

Harry have a half smile. “One moment of weakness, Ron. It was all it took. One moment when I had no control, and Voldemort just walked right into my head and planted something there. He knew… he already knew exactly what I needed to see to go rushing to my death to save Sirius. I would have done it… and who knows what he would have done to me or anyone with me.”

“Look,” Ron said. “I don’t know much about how it works for you, but isn’t asking you to be on guard all the time a little much?”

“Look what happened in just one night, Ron…” Harry said. “What if I was still being stupid about learning the occlumency? It could have happened sooner. What if Hermione hadn’t been there to think about flooing Sirius before I…”

“Harry,” Ron said, shaking him a little. “It’s okay to be aware. Even I can feel something out there, circling around Hogwarts like mist. But don’t feel like everything is on your shoulders. Let your friends help you too. I’m not saying you don’t have to be careful. I realise now we all have to be a little more careful. I’m saying… don’t take it all upon your shoulders alone. Alone is what gets us dead.”

Harry looked at Ron, eyebrows furrowing. “When do you become the voice of reason, Ron?”

Ron looked at Harry somewhat sadly. “Maybe, when I realised she was never mine to have.”

Harry looked his friend in the face and nodded wordlessly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hey Granger,” Fred nudged Hermione with his toe. “Ow! Stop it, you three-headed menace. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

One of Cerberus’ heads looked up at him. The other two were gnawing upon his shoe.

Hermione lifted her head from the parchment she was reading. “Hrm?” Her hand reached down under the table and scratched Cerberus between the ears. Each head attempted to bump the other out of the way to monopolise the rubbing of her hand.

“How is our sister doing?” George asked.

“She’ll be all right,” Hermione said with a half smile. “I think she’s more embarrassed now than anything. I gave her something for the symptoms, but she has to work the potion effects off on her own.”

Fred nodded. “Thanks for making sure she’s okay. Mum thought we’d pranked her. We told her we knew better. She’s the fastest bat boogey hexer this side of the Atlantic.”

Hermione chuckled. “She is indeed.”

“Any idea who did it?” George asked. “Pranking is one thing, but involuntary marriage and duels over love are hardly harmless.”

Hermione took in a breath. “That ring Romilda had… it was not common. The Ministry had them locked up in their vaults long ago when the Riots of Choice happened back a few hundred years go. Excluding the possibility that she knew someone who knew someone in the Ministry… she would have had to found one through either the black market or… sheer stupid luck at an estate sale.”

“Could it have been a family heirloom?” Fred asked.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “You know, it could have. No one wants to admit they had one to enforce marriages in their family… so hiding it would have been commonplace. But why would she be carrying it around in her purse?”

“Remember how Ginny ended up with Tom Riddle’s diary?” George muttered.

Hermione sighed. “True, it could have had help.”

“But what if it didn’t,” Fred asked. “I know we shouldn’t assume everyone has a bad agenda, but what if she did have a target in mind. And look at Marietta Edgecombe… who knows how much of what she did was her being her… and how much was Umbridge Imperio’ing her.”

Hermione rubbed the side of her head. Fred and George both had a protective streak that spanned across all of their “important people.” The jokesters, while having a highly developed sense of pranking, never failed to look out for their family and friends. She wondered, sometimes, how many people realised this about the pair. They were known for their jokes more than their academics, but no one that knew them would ever consider them lacking in the skills that counted. Whether they tested for them, however, well that was a different story, but Hermione knew they had more potential and actual skill than they let on. You don’t create a virtual bog in Hogwarts with an entire mangrove ecosystem without it.

“Pranking is one thing,” Hermione said at last, “but part of me thinks that there was something more to it. We can’t even blame Slytherin House for doing it because it took out everyone, and Slytherin would not be caught doing something so blatantly undignified in the public eye. Blaise Zabini and Romilda Vane married? If they do managed to get that Ring of Matrimony off him… he might just throw himself off the Astronomy Tower once he realises he let anything Gryffindor near him let alone marry him.”

“Could it be a botch job?” Fred pondered.

Hermione shook her head. “We’d be hearing the screaming coming from the Slytherin Common Room as my Master tore them to pieces.”

Fred and George widened their eyes. “Right.”

Cerberus whined softly from under the table.

Hermione looked down. “I think someone needs to go for a walk and I need to take a case of mite and flea tonic down to Hagrid before all the hippogriffs come down with bird mites. I need an escort to travel down there, if either of you two wouldn’t mind.”

“Bird mites?” George asked.

Hermione shook her head. “One of the hippogriffs was itching and scratching a few days ago, and now the entire herd is doing it, and like most things Hagrid needs, he needs it as of yesterday.”

Little Vik popped his head out from Hermione’s hair at the mention of hippogriffs and chirped.

“Good thing this guy can’t get them,” Hermione chuckled, scritching the miniature creature with her hand.

“Sure, we’ll go with you,” the twins answered her. “Still can’t see him without an escort, eh?”

Hermione shook her head. “That is the one rule anymore with Hagrid and myself that my Master will not budge on,” she said sadly. “At least, not anytime soon.”

Fred and George sighed. “All we needed to know was that you were almost crushed to death on his watch, Hermione. And Snape may be a git, but he’s been rightfully angry with Hagrid,” George said.

“Personally, I’m not sure how you can even trust him at all after that,” Fred added.

Hermione looked sad. “I’m not sure I can, to be honest. The time when I used to think he always meant well and was looking out for me kind of left with my ability to breathe.” She paused, looking across the Great Hall to the High Table to where Hagrid normally sat. The half-giant was absent. “I do think he has a big heart, but it is a misguided one. Sometimes that works in our favour, and sometimes not so much.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Fred and George had a look about them that was usually reserved for focused mischief. “What has you both so focused?”

Fred and George exchanged glances. “We want to be ready for what’s coming,” they chimed.

“Mum thinks we’re not ready to fight,” Fred said grimly.

“We tried to get sworn into the Order of the Phoenix,” George said.

“And she broke out in tears saying we were too young for such lessons,” Fred continued.

“We need to learn so we aren’t sitting around waiting for something horrible to hit us before mum realises we should have been trained better,” George said.

Fred looked at Hermione intently. “People think because we’re jokers that we can’t see what’s coming.”

“But we do see it, Hermione,” George said.

“And we see you fighting the good fight without us to back you up,” Fred said.

“We want to be able to back you up,” George said grimly. “If you need us, we want to be able to help you, instead of sitting on our laurels waiting for people like you to save people like dad.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, scanning their faces for infinitesimal tells. After what seemed like hours, she took in a breath and released it slowly. “Before I can teach you anything…complicated, you’ll have to start with Occlumency, and you’ll have to be good at it. It could take weeks to months, depending on how… dedicated you are.”

“She says before we learn anything complicated that we have to learn something exceedingly complicated, George,” Fred said.

“Sounds like a challenge, brother,” Fred said with a nod.

“We’re always up to challenges,” the twins chimed. “You have a deal.”

The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitched. “As you wish,” she said, standing from the table and exiting the Great Hall with such a fluid movement that the twins barely had time to realise she had exited had it not been for Cerberus scrambling out from under the table to bound after her with the scraping of his claws against the stone floor as one miniature hippogriff twittered bossily in their faces before zooming off towards where Hermione had left.

The pair hurried after her. “How are we supposed to escort her if she moves so fast?” Fred huffed.

“Maybe this is the first lesson,” George answered.

“So much for giving us time to settle in!” Fred puffed.

“You-Know-Who isn’t waiting,” George grunted. “We shouldn’t either.”

“Right, George,” Fred said.

Up at the front of the Great Hall, Snape shook his head as he stabbed his fork into his salad, his black eyes watching the twins hurry off after his Apprentice like nubile dancers attempting their first tango. They were in for a quite a ride, he was certain.

Hermione’s amusement touched his mind soon after Fred and George disappeared out of the Great Hall.

:Planning remedial lessons for the summer break already, my Apprentice?: Severus ribbed her mentally.

:Come now, my Master,: Hermione replied. :Remedial implies they failed at it once.:

:Hopefully, they take the lessons more seriously than another certain wizard,: he replied with a mental sniff.

:One thing they inherited from their mother—: Hermione began.

:A propensity to stay out until four in the morning?: Severus said dryly.

Hermione coughed mentally. :They have a fierce desire to protect their family and friends. It gives them focus.:

:A certain Ronald Weasley could use some of that,: Severus replied as he watched said person shuffled into the Great Hall for the afternoon meal with Harry Potter.

:I yield to you, my Master,: Hermione’s mental chuckled replied.

Severus smirked as he caught a Roma tomato with his fork and stabbed it. :As it should be, my Apprentice.:

Hermione’s warmth surrounded him before she retreated from his mind, her mental laughter ringing like bells.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco patted Hermione’s neck as she flew to get her attention. She paused in her glide, whipping her wings back to halt her momentum.

Draco gestured with his arm, pointing down.

Hermione banked and circled, landing in the dark of the strange forest, her nostrils flared as she dipped her front legs down to allow Draco to leap off easier. She knew it wasn’t necessary—the boy could leap on or off her at a full gallop half off the ground—but sometimes it was the little things that helped them sync up ever tighter.

Draco had his hand upon her withers, and Hermione leaned into him automatically, pressing her head against his side. Her senses were scanning the area, and she saw Draco’s mouth part slightly, his tongue flicked over his teeth in an unconscious reflection of his animagus form as he tasted the air around him. To someone who didn’t know, it looked as though he was thinking about something, but they both knew better.

“Nothing, Ari,” he said softly. “You?”

Hermione rose into her human form. “Nothing human,” Hermione confirmed. She made a grimace with her face, scenting something in the back of her mouth. “There is old death here. The kind that clings to bones.”

Draco’s hand tightened where he had placed it on the back of her robes and then soothed her back with an almost apologetic brush. He walked forward with Hermione keeping pace with him.

“So Mundungus finally gave Moody something we could use,” Draco sighed.

“He gave up a lot of information under pressure, but most of it was babble,” Hermione replied. “He said he was told to fetch a box from this place after he looted Grimmauld Place and his pay would have doubled.”

“And considering the Dark magic on that pendant that was hanging out in Grimmauld Place, who knows what we will find here,” Draco said. “There’s the shack. Stay frosty.”

Hermione nodded, sinking into a half crouch with him. Draco moved off one direction and she the other, wands out despite sensing no life in the area. The area itself seemed to defy the sense of life, and even the surrounding trees seemed blighted and hollow.

The last time Hermione had been near here was to deal with the Death Eaters surrounding the graveyard of Little Hangleton. It was too much of a coincidence that Mundungus was told to go here of all places for something important. She could only hope they found whatever it was before whoever had been guiding Mundungus became impatient and sent someone else.

The house before them was hardly anything she would have called livable. The trees around the house had tangled around it, blocking the light of either sun or moon. The house, which resembled more a shack, was covered in moss. The roof tiles were broken and in disrepair, many having fallen to the ground, exposing the once covered rafters. Plants were growing all around, thickly tangling around the sides of the dwelling so high that it met the windows. The windows, if you could call them windows, were terribly small, and their surface was covered in either soot or oil so thoroughly that they might as well not had windows at all.

As Hermione made her way to the door, checking it for traps or wards that might spring into action on her approach, she was surprised that there were none. Part of her wondered if the shack’s state of disrepair was its defence. Who would bother looting a place that looked so obviously worse for wear than any place around it?

As she tentatively tested the door, it was, oddly enough, still locked. She pointed her wand at it, using the unlocking charm, but while the lock clicked open, the door itself would not budge.

Draco was next to her. He pointed to a small hole at the base of the door where the wood had started to rot from the moisture. Just large enough for rodents and a certain Inland Taipan to sneak under.

Draco took his snake form and slid under the door in a smooth motion. Within a few seconds, she heard a scraping noise as Draco moved something heavy, and the door opened.

As the pair cast mage lights into the darkened interior, the both of them winced at the horrible state within. There was nothing livable within the appalling space contained within the moss covered walls, and the meagre signs of who may have lived there previously were covered in both earth and leaves as if the trees above littered down upon the shack below to enforce its lowly place in the scheme of life.

“Hard to believe anyone lived here seeing it here like this,” Draco said into the gloom.

“If they were wizards or witches…” Hermione said in a shocked voice. “Why live like this? The tent we stayed in at the Quidditch World Cup was larger than this space on the inside.”

“Back when Father and Mother used to take me on vacation in quaint scenic areas, we’d often stay in these Wizarding log cabins,” Draco said. “The outside of the cabins were barely larger than this place, but the insides were always larger and more comfortable.”

Hermione frowned as she gazed around the dirty interior. It was difficult to imagine a magical family so completely destitute of both money and magical means to be forced to live in such a place and not even have the wherewithal to alter it to bring some sort of comfort. Her hand clutched Draco’s in an automatic and uncontrollable distress.

Draco, silently squeezed her hand in return, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand.

Little Vik chirped plaintively from Hermione’s hair. Almost understandably, the little hippogriff did not wish to leave his nest in her hair. He seemed to sense that the place was inhospitable to all sorts of life.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Draco said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t think either of us want to be here longer than necessary.”

Hermione nodded and they linked hands, pressing their wands into each other’s palms as they clasped each other’s hands. The both of them closed their eyes as a barrier went up around them and a heated wind swirled around them. Dust, refuse, and soot dislodged around them, blowing out of the space in whatever direction it could, sending clouds of nastiness out the holes in the roof, out the door, and through the many uncountable holes in the sides of the house. It bounced off the protective barrier wildly before being forced away, and the shack gained a true floor and walls now that the litter was forced out.

Rodents squeaked and scurried out of the house, driven from their nests built in the ruins of some old family’s poverty.

As the magical wind died down, Draco and Hermione remind interlocked, their senses extending through the room to search for traces of Dark Magic within the remains of the squalor.

“There,” Draco said, sensing something buried in a corner. His mind guided Hermione’s to what he had sensed, and he felt her home in on it as well.

“I feel it too,” Hermione replied. “Let’s see what it is.”

They parted slowly, their senses taking some time to separate. Each took a moment to clear their minds before they nodded to each other.

Draco began to clear the smaller debris with his hands as Hermione used her wand to clear the larger things away away from the corner. They exposed the stone hatch floor after quite a bit of work. “This stone is strange. The dirt around it is loose. It isn’t set with grout. Move it for me, will you, sis?”

“You got it,” Hermione answered, pointing her wand at the stone, whispering her incantation.

The rock wobbled as it attempted to be free of the floor and begrudgingly lifted. Hermione guided the stone to the side as Draco cast a light above the hole.

“I’m so not sticking my hand into a dark unknown hole,” he muttered, making the light brighten.

Hermione chuckled, kneeling next to him. She peered into the hole with a sigh.

Little Vik gave an unhappy chirp and fluttered into dark hole. There was the sound of claws on metal and it resembled nails on a chalkboard.

Hermione and Draco winced together with a groan.

Vik fluttered out of the hole into the light, carrying a tattered cloth covered box. He chirped as his wings fluttered so fast that it was hard to see the move. Hermione held out her hands and the dutiful little hippogriff dropped it into them.

Hermione kissed the little hippogriff on the head. “You are the most wonderful creature. Thank you!”

“Hey!” Draco pouted. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Also wonderful, dear brother” she answered, planting a kiss on his forehead.”

Draco’s face turned scarlet and he mumbled something as he turned his head away.

Hermione smirked at Draco and unwrapped the tattered, damp cloth from around the rusted box. The hinges on the box were rusted off, and the lock upon it had long since failed to do its job. There was a hole in the side of the box the size of a galleon.

Hermione nodded to Draco and he put up a shielding charm to protect them for anything the box could latently contain.

The box creaked open revealing a nest of dead mice. The skeleton of one had a ring wrapped around its ribcage. Hermione and Draco curled their lips in disgust. As Hermione reached for the ring, her hand stopped. “This is where it’s coming from. The taint is strong. We’re going to need to cover our tracks on this one.” She separated the ring and its mouse victim from the box using her wand, staring at it intently without touching it.

“Draco, do you recognise the symbol on the stone?” she asked.

Draco peered at it intently and shook his head. “Not off hand, Ari.”

Hermione frowned at the ring. “I’ve seen it before, but I cannot remember where, but I feel like I should.”

“One things for certain, I think this is one ring we should not put on,” Draco said, pointing to the dead mouse “wearing” the ring. “If our small rodent friend tells us anything.”

Hermione nodded. She pulled out a block of metal and a pebble from her pocket, showing it to Draco. He nodded back to her, as she closed her hand over it and closed her eyes.

They were both silent, with only the creaking of the trees around them and the scurrying noises of rodents kept them company. When Hermione opened her hand, she had created a construct that looked disturbingly identical to the ring around the dead mouse. Holding out her wand, she levitated the crafted ring in the air and then back into the rusted box, pausing to guide one of the other dead rodents into the band of metal to act the victim. She pointed her wand at the real ring. “Idem sensus.” She pointed at the fake ring and said, “simulacrum.”

Hermione and Draco shuddered as the Dark aura from the original ring seemed far too accurately represented by the fake. Hermione took in a deep breath, closed the box, re-wrapped it in the tattered cloth, and set it back into the dark hole.

Draco pulled a box from his robes and opened it. With a piece of cloth, he lifted the ring, mouse and all, and placed it into the newer one, snapping it closed. He ran his wand along the edge of the box, sealing it it with his magic to have no seam at all.

Meanwhile, Hermione moved the floor stone back into place, waving her wand to set the dirt back in place around it, the debris over that, and the miscellaneous litter over debris.

The pair exchanged glances.

“We need to get this back to Severus,” Draco said, tucking it into his robe pocket.

Hermione nodded.

They retreated from the shack, pausing only to put things back into the horrible nastiness that they had witnessed on their arrival, wiping away the evidence of their being there, and closing the door behind them. After travelling quite a distance away, wiping their tracks as they went, Hermione dropped on all fours.

Draco leapt upon her back in a fluid motion and she took off in the air. He held out his arm and signalled, “One…two…three…”

CRACK. They were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“This is the third thing like this we have acquired in less than a year,” Moody growled. “I do not believe in coincidences. That thing is has an evil about it that seems even more sinister than the locket, and I’m willing to bet all of them are equally difficult if not impossible to destroy.”

“I doubt that it is impossible, Alastor…” Remus said. “Exceedingly difficult, yes.” Remus stared at the ring that was in suspended animation with its two fellows in incarceration. Nagini was bound nearby under three circles of binding and stasis, floating in the air neither living or dead. The locket was suspended on a pedestal around a stone neck, and the ring was now on the finger of a fake hand. All three items were shielded and warded to the extreme, but none of those present had any doubt as to their dangerous qualities.

“How many more of these will be out there, do you think?” Sirius said grimly.

“Better question,” Arthur said. “What do you think they really are?”

“I have… a suspicion,” Severus said, causing multiple sets of eyes to stare at him. “Nagini and that ring have a history with the Dark Lord. A connection. It is only logical to believe that the locket, too, has a connection we have yet to find. They all share a common… darkness about them. An unnatural feeling to them. If what I think is correct, then there very well may be others out there and it is imperative that we find them and find a way to destroy them all before any battle with him takes place.

“What are you implying, Severus?” Remus asked.

The Dark Wizard looked at Remus with unreadable eyes. “The Dark Lord may be using these… objects, living or not, as vessels for pieces of his shattered soul.”

“A Horcrux?” Remus whispered. “I remember stories of Herpo the Foul who created the first Horcrux. They said to create one you have to murder someone to…”

“Split your soul?” Severus said grimly.

Sirius paled. “To murder someone solely to gain immortality is a slight against life itself. To do it multiple times…?”

Moody slammed his walking stick down. “Would make whoever did it less human with each split, and quite possibly, more unstable each time.”

“The soul was never meant to exist in pieces,” Remus said with horror.

Arthur looked like he was going to hurl, and Tonks looked like she having problems deciding which form to take on, as her form was changing by the second from one shape to another in her distress.

“Let me get this straight,” Tonks managed to say after a few minutes of involuntary shifting. “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named murdered someone and stuffed a fragment of his soul into each of these… receptacles… in order to cheat death? And while any one of them exists… he will just keep coming back like a bad case of Wizard Flu?”

Severus’ dark eyes flicked to Tonk’s and held her gaze. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Is there any way to confirm this?” Tonks asked.

“How hard should it be to kill a giant snake, usually, girl?” Moody snapped.

“Against a typical animal, only as difficult as they can naturally avoid the spells being cast upon them,” Tonks replied.

“How about 20 stuns to the face with barely a slow down?” Moody growled.

Tonk’s eyes widened and she put her head down.

“We’ve tried smashing that locket with every blasting spell and even a few tools like sledgehammers, and nothing will break it,” Moody said. “They are more… than just trinkets with a little Dark magic thrown in.”

Arthur shook his head. “So we need to know two things: How many more are out there and how are we going to destroy the ones we find?”

Moody sniffed, his magical eye was rotated around fully to stare through his own skull at the ring behind him. “Until then we keep these under so many binding circles and wards that nothing gets in and out unless we allow it.

“Why did you choose this hell-forsaken pit to house these items, Moody?” Sirius grunted. “It’s practically deep enough to be half to Hades as it is.”

Moody curled his lip. “These are the ancient protected binding circles, Remus,” he said, as if it explained everything.

Remus gave him a look. “What does that mean to those of us who don’t work with such things every day?”

Arthur put his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “These ancient binding circles are enchanted to set the entire room to flame if the wards are breached.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “What sort of flames?”

Tonks shuddered. “Fiendfyre, Remus. If anything attempts to breach this area without our lowering the wards in the right sequence, the room will be devoured in Fiendfyre.”

Remus rotated his shoulders and cricked his neck. “Okay then,” he said at last. “I think I’ve had enough of this room for now.”

Sirius nodded in similar thinking, heading out with Remus as they left the room. “I think I’m going to pour myself a nice extra tall shot of Ogden’s Firewhisky when I get home,” Sirius said. “Join me, Moony?”

“This time, yes,” Remus said without hesitation as the pair disappeared up the corridor.

“You’re not sinking into a bottle without me,” Tonks yelled, running after them both.

Arthur rubbed his head. “I’m glad Molly was busy for this meeting. She will not be pleased hearing about Horcruxes.”

“There is no gentle way of talking about it, Arthur,” Moody snapped.

“I know, Alastor,” Arthur said, “but I would rather not be the one who has to tell her.”

“I will continue to question Mundungus to see if there are any other ‘items’ he was supposed to liberate,” Alastor grunted. “Someone wanted him to find them, but… I hesitate to believe that You-Know-Who would reveal any of his treasured objects to someone like Mundungus. Bah, it’s already been a long night. Away with you. We will have another meeting when I learn anything new. Contact me if either of you learn anything as well.”

Arthur nodded.

Severus silently stared at the both of them. “As you wish,” he said, sweeping the room as his robes billowing behind him.

 


	64. False Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione doesn't appreciate Hagrid's desire to harbour giant spiders over respecting the centaur.  
> There is a prophecy, and there is a fake prophecy. Who knew?

**Chapter 64: Fake Prophecy**

Harry trudged out from his Defence Against Dark Arts O.W.L. with a tired smile. Professor Tofty, had been satisfied by his ability to banish a boggart as well as correctly doing a chain of counter-jinxes and defencive spells they had practised so many times during meetings for the Army. There was a feeling of pride when he was met with similar smiles from the others leaving the O.W.L. testing that the hard work everyone had done under Umbridge’s nose had come to fruition. He was particularly confident that he would be getting an outstanding on this particular test out thanks to his extra-credit full-bodied Patronus, which had bounded around the hall before dissipating in front of the testing professors.

As Harry walked onto the greens around Hogwarts, he caught sight of a familiar black-robed figure making her way down towards Hagrid’s hut. At her side, however, was a certain blond-haired Slytherin that made his good mood fade. Snape, and while he admitted that there was more to Snape that just being some greasy foul-tempered git, had apparently assigned Malfoy to escort duty. Malfoy was the last person he would trust to look over Hermione’s safety. Determined to watch over Hermione properly, he followed them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ah, thank you, ‘ermione,” Hagrid said, taking the crate of bottles from her arms. “This ‘ould be the last o’ it. The hippogriffs ‘ave finally stopped rubbing themselves on the trees with ‘ere itching.”

Hermione tilted her head in neutral acknowledgement. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said in an even tone.

“Will ya come in for some tea then?” Hagrid asked, gesturing into his hut.

Hermione exchanged looks with Draco silently but nodded. “Thank you, Hagrid, we will.”

Hagrid smiled awkwardly and gestured them in, following in behind them.

Cerberus and Fang stood nose to noses, and each sniffed the other with interest as the three of them sat down at the large table. They growled at each other, tussling, making a racket, and then flopping on the floor in a tired heap, each drooling excessively.

Hagrid reached down to pet Fang, and Cerberus eyed him suspiciously, his lips pulling back from his teeth as he growled a warning. Hagrid, wisely, did not attempt to pet Cerberus as well.

“Reminds me of ol’ Fluffy,” Hagrid said with a sad note. “He was always growling and carrying on at me too.”

Hermione and Draco lifted a brow together. They didn’t mention that the three-headed pup had been the prime example of canine manners since being assimilated into the Lair’s pack structure. Excluding the piddling incident over Umbridge’s ankles, which some argued was the perfect action for the situation and entirely excusable, he usually limited his mischief to the chewing on any nearby non-dragon-hide shoes and boots.

“Do yeh have to play music for ‘im to calm down?” Hagrid asked curiously.

“No, actually,” Hermione said. “Not once.”

“Well, I guess that proves he’s not one of Fluffy’s pups,” Hagrid said. “Was kinda hoping he found a nice mate out there in the woods.”

“Hagrid, don’t you think a family of highly territorial unsocialised Grecian three-headed dogs running around free in the woods would be a little… dangerous to… I don’t know… everything in the forest?”

“Naw, Hermione,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “As long as they stay away from Aragog’s family, they’d be fine.”

“He’s more worried about spiders than students,” Draco signalled to her as he rubbed his nose.

Hermione sipped her tea, signalling, “Hope he isn’t trying to ‘find Fluffy a mate’ as well.”

Draco rubbed his temples. “You’re not trying to release another three-headed dog into the forest are you, Hagrid,” he said with an arrogant sniff, putting on his typical Malfoy arrogance.

“Well, uh,” Hagrid said, sipping his tea with a little more enthusiasm. “No. Not anytime soon. Fluffy’s gone missing you see.”

“Merlin,” Draco signalled.

Hermione’s hand was clawing into the wood of the table, her nails digging into the wood as she wrestled control over her initial response. “Doesn’t it bother you that multiple overgrown and uncontrolled non-native carnivores could endanger both the residents of Hogwarts and the native species of the forest, Hagrid?” Her voice was low, careful, and veiled.

“Aw, don’t look at it like that, ‘ermione,” Hagrid said with a strangely offended expression. “They’d have just as much right to live in the forest as anyone.”

“Don’t the centaur have the right to live in the forest of their ancestors without having species that haven’t been seen in their forests showing up and threatening their ecosystem?” Hermione’s voice had changed into something acidic like her Master’s, channelling the temperature of his tone as her posture stiffened.

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, unable or unwilling to say anything more.

Cerberus, as if sensing the change, stood up and padded over, setting his heavy heads upon her lap and whining softly.

Hermione’s hand went down to soothe the pup between the ears, her expression lightening somewhat, gaining the look of younger and more oblivious Hermione Granger. “Nothing would ever happen to a student at Hogwarts with their professors looking after them,” she said in the naive voice that spoke of first years and the trust that required no evidence.

If it was possible, Hagrid seemed even more unnerved by the shift in Hermione’s demeanour, the innocence upon her face no longer seemed as fitting as it had been on her younger and more jovial self.

Cerberus was licking her fingers dutifully, almost as if he sensed his job was to keep his Mistress from saying exactly what she was thinking.

Conversation switched to subjects less volatile as Draco stealthily leant into Hermione, pressing his shoulder into her, making it look like he was reaching down to pet the dog. “So, do thestrals get fleas and mites, Hagrid?” he steered the conversation.

Hagrid started to ramble on about how thestrals often had problems with ticks more than mites, thankfully oblivious to Hermione’s gentle relax into Draco’s touch as she regained her inner calm. Hagrid was still a sore spot, the both of them knew well, and his seeming betrayal had stuck with her. Unfortunately, it seemed that Hagrid had very little social awareness to realise the gaff he had committed and thus did not attempt to heal it, and the window of opportunity to do so seemed to be closing a little bit more each day that passed.

The conversation of thestrals seemed to remind Hagrid that he had herd of them awaiting their flea and mite concoctions, and he stood, picking up a few bottles from the crate.

“Thanks for bringing the potions, you two,” Hagrid said.

Hermione and Draco stood from the table, pushing their finished teacups away. “Be careful, Hagrid,” Hermione said.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, lass,” Hagrid said, stroking his beard. “Ain’t nuthin out there I don’t know ‘ow to deal with.”

Cerberus pounced on Fang as he exited, causing the now “older” dog to bark lowly, but his tail wagged back and forth as they chased each other out the door into the outside garden.

Hermione and Draco stood together as they watched Cerberus and Fang tumble in the garden. The sound they were making was vicious and brutal, but then they would part, play-bowing on their front legs and barking at each other, tails wagging in invitation to continue. Then, they were at it again, making hay until they were covered in each other’s drool.

Hermione smiled at the sight and signalled to Draco, “This is where Viktor pins down the pup with his paw and makes him lay down.”

Draco smirked. “At least he has a dog to be a dog with,” he signalled. “It is amusing to watch.”

“True,” Hermione replied.

Hagrid was walking into the forest with a crossbow slung over his shoulder, causing Hermione to frown. Fang was trotting off to answer Hagrid’s call, and Cerberus chased Fang to the edge of the forest and then sat down with a whine, not wishing to lose his playmate.

“If Magorian or Bane catches Hagrid skulking around with a crossbow in the forest, they are not going to be happy,” Hermione signalled. “Well any of the patrols, for that matter.”

Draco frowned, silently staring into the forest where the half-giant managed to disappear.

Hermione whipped out a piece of parchment and a travel quill. She used Draco’s back to be her makeshift desk, causing Draco to roll his eyes. His scent was spiced with amusement, but his face was was exasperated.

Hermione chuckled softly, rolling up the scroll and dislodging the sleepy hippogriff from her hair. “Hello, my darling,” she cooed. “Ready to deliver something for me?”

Vik chirped sleepily but straighted his posture, allowing her to lash the message to his back.

Hermione kissed Vik on the head and he fluttered off into the forest.

“Not taking chances in case the foals are out harvesting?” Draco signalled.

“Trefoil could be out there with Chara,” Hermione signalled with a serious expression. “Or Bubbles, or any of the young ones. That would be a disaster if Hagrid was seen with a weapon near the young.”

“An act of war,” Draco replied grimly.

Hermione nodded and let out a small whistle. Cerberus perked his multiple sets of ears and bounded over, licking her fingers and looking up at her adoringly. She smiled down at him. “Why couldn’t you have been this adorable when I first met you? You would have been far more distracting as you are now than when you were trying to kill us. I would have spent hours just loving upon you.”

Draco snorted, coughing into his sleeve.

“You can’t tell me that he isn’t adorable,” Hermione signed to him.

“No comment,” Draco replied, waving his hand as if shooing in insect.

Hermione chortled and loved upon the pup, causing Cerberus to tail wag even harder. “Deny all you want, brother. I know you too well.”

Draco averted his eyes.

Cerberus whined plaintively at Draco, tail wagging and tongue lolling in appeasement for attention.

Slowly, as if it was agonising, Draco shot his hand out and pet Cerberus on all three heads, causing the pup to lick his hand thoroughly.

“Busted,” Hermione signalled, causing Draco to look skyward in denial.

“Lunch time,” Draco said as the bell was ringing.

“Oh, I do hope they are serving wings today,” Hermione said with a grin. “I love the honey barbecue ones.”

“I want the habanero ones dipped in ranch,” Draco said with a sniff.

Hermione winced. “Asbestos mouth.”

Draco wigged his eyebrows subtly.

Hermione looked down at the pup and grinned as he wagged his tail, hoping for a task. Hermione’s face lit up with mischief. “Need something to do, pup?”

Cerberus barked in triplicate, tail wagging.

“Go find Harry!” she said excitedly.

Cerberus tore off up the hill.

“You realise that he’s going to bowl Potter over wherever he is and drool on him until you get there right?” Draco said neutrally.

Hermione grinned mischievously.

Hermione frowned as Cerberus came bounding back towards them and blew past them. There was a triple bark, and oof, and a thump as the pup ploughed into Harry, who was hiding on the other side of Hagrid’s hut.

Hermione and Draco peered around the side of the hut with raised eyebrows.

“Didn’t your godfather teach you its rude to eavesdrop, Potter?” Draco said with a sniff, using his affronted tone.

Hermione and Draco looked down at Harry, who was now covered in runner bean plants, dirt, and a very happily drooling dog.

Harry looked up at Hermione sheepishly. “Hi.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“So this is the fake prophecy?” Arthur asked, staring at the swirling ball on the table.

Severus nodded.

“However did you construct it?” Tonks said, staring into the ball. “It looks so like the original, only the message is different.”

“Rented out the entire Hog’s Head Inn, redecorated a corner, and had my Apprentice use some of your lessons in blending in mixed with a touch of polyjuice,” Snape said with a shrug.

“It even sounds like that nasally woman,” Moody said with a shudder. “Fraud she may be in most cases, she was, whether to our curse or benefit… given the gift of being a Seer on even more rare occasions.”

“Can you show the rest of us what is inside, Severus?” Lupin asked. “Before you seal off to match the original globe.”

Severus nodded, making a movement with his wand and tapping the crystal.

The crystal shimmered and swirled, and the misty face of Sybil Trelawney nasally droned, “ THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK ONE AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND NEITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR FOR IF ONE DIES, SO TOO PERISHES THE OTHER…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES… TO KILL THE ONE MARKED AS HIS EQUAL WILL VANQUISH THE DARK LORD FOREVER.”

The swirling mist enveloped “Trelawney” and the prophecy faded.

“If I didn’t know that wasn’t the real one, Severus, I’d believe it was real,” Lupin said. “That is amazing work.”

Sirius shuddered. “Almost too real… it makes me question my own memories.”

“Then it will better do the job it was created for,” Moody grunted. “We should consider this a good thing. “Arthur, are you good to replace the original?”

“The Keeper is ready any time,” Arthur said with a nod. “All I have to do is come to him at a time when we can guarantee no one else will be there to see the switch.”

“Tonks,” Moody said. “You and I will create a suitable distraction for Arthur this evening, when the Ministry has started to trickle home.”

Tonks nodded affirmative. “You got it.”

“Sirius and Remus,” Moody said. “I need you to keep your ears to the ground and see if you can determine when the next wave of infiltrators are going to hit the Department of Ministries. I have a feeling the word isn’t going to come out anywhere high brow or socially visible. That means you, Sirius, will have a better chance at hearing something. Remus, you may hear mutterings at Hogwarts from the students on the parents’ movements.”

The animagus and the werewolf nodded in agreement.

“Snape,” Moody said, his eyes narrowing at the ex-Death Eater. Even after all Severus had done for the Order, Moody’s suspicions of the dark-clad wizard had never truly faded. It seemed to rise and fall with the randomness of the tide. “Can you insure that if we send Potter in there to play his part that we can be signalled in time if something goes wrong?”

Severus’ face was impassive. “Yes.” He slid his eyes to the side to eye Hermione, who was siting quite silently at his right, listening to the goings on without making comment.

“Potter will either want to charge in by himself to spare his friends, or his friends will want to go with him to protect him,” Moody predicted. “Are you all ready to protect them all if it comes to it?”

Multiple heads nodded across the table.

“Kingsley is stuck in a meeting right now, but I will send him word as to what is going on,” Moody said with a grunt. He pulled out a small bag from his coat and dumped it out onto the table. Small stone pebbles that seemed to have plucked out of a riverbank tumbled out. “Everyone take a port-key. They are all keyed to a storage room in the Department of Mysteries that we control. The pass-key is ‘unspeakable.’”

Everyone reached and and took a stone.

“Snape,” Moody barked. “We’ll be waiting on your signal to port in and again for your signal to move out from there. I expect you to work with Remus and Sirius on knowing when the next wave will be coming in.”

Severus’ dark eyes and expression revealed nothing, but he inclined his head in response.

“All right, oil is burning, people, move!” Moody barked, and people filtered out of the room.

Severus tapped his wand on the prophecy crystal, sealing it from revealing its contents to anyone but those represented in the prophecy. He handed it to Arthur with a grim nod.

Arthur took the globe with a nod, wrapping it in a dark cloth and tucking in into a cushioned box to protect it. Molly looked at him worriedly, but nodded.

When Severus was sure that Arthur had the prophecy safely tucked away, he stepped into the floo and disappeared, Hermione stepping in and disappearing directly after.

“I don’t like sending the boy into danger, Arthur,” Molly said, wringing her hands.

“I don’t either, Molly,” Arthur said, “But we’re going to be there to help him. It’s all we can do.”

Molly took in a breath and nodded before they both stepped into the floo and disappeared.


	65. The Uncalm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry was caught spying.  
> The true prophecy is revealed.  
> Harry and his friends are attacked by Death Eaters.

**Chapter 65: The Uncalm Before the Storm**

Harry was feeling pretty embarrassed being caught spying on Hermione when she went to see Hagrid, and even more embarrassed being caught spying on Malfoy while he was escorting her. It wasn’t like Snape hadn’t ordered Malfoy so many times before to escort his friend to Hagrid’s place since her unfortunate Hagrid-induced giant crushing incident… but Harry had a hard time believing that Malfoy would ever actually watch out for Hermione.

Strangely, however, Harry felt like he had to eat a generous helping of humble pie when he realised that not only was Malfoy keeping to the spirit of his escort, Hermione and Malfoy had stood silently communing over Hagrid’s garden, seemingly at peace with each other, something Harry never thought he would see. And Cerberus, who Harry had to admit had good judgment in people, seemed more than happy to accept pats from Malfoy’s hands. Was it possible that just as Snape seemed to have a side to him that he had never suspected… that Malfoy too was more than his arrogant pure-blooded demeanour led everyone to believe? Had he really been so blinded with distaste that he couldn’t see anything redeeming in Malfoy for five years?

Harry sat overlooking the lake from a far hill. Hedwig hooted softly from a nearby rock, and his scratched her breast feathers with his fingers as he looked across the ripples in the water. It seemed odd not to see the sails of the Durmstrang ship anchored in the waters. The ship had become such an accustomed sight in silhouette next to Hogwarts during the tournament that it seemed strange not to see it now.

Hedwig nipped his fingers hungrily, and Harry passed her a frog apologetically, knowing it was one of her favourite treats. He really hadn’t been paying enough attention to her in the past months, and he really had no one to blame but himself for the oversight.

There was a soft WHUMF sound and suddenly Viktor was there, Hermione on his arm. Harry had never heard such a soft apparition. Had it not been so quiet where was he was sitting, he may not have heard it at all. There were two soft cracks afterwards, and Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, and Petya arrived arm in arm as well.

“When you said you wanted to talk to me, Hermione,” boggled Harry. “You didn’t say you were bringing the entire Aerie.”

“I guess that leaves us out, Padfoot,” Remus’ voice chuckled as they appeared of the trees. Sirius was in his dog form, tussling with Cerberus as they ran up the forest trail.

“Sirius,” Harry gasped. “Professor Lupin!”

“He still knows our names, Moony,” Sirius laughed as he turned into a man and loved on Cerberus thrice over. “That’s a good sign.”

Remus chuckled, laying down a blanket sitting down on it, only to have Cerberus crawl into his lap and lick his chin. Sirius sat down beside him with a laugh.

Hermione chuckled, setting down a blanket to sit on next to Remus’. Somehow all of them managed to cram themselves onto the blankets and not look uncomfortable. “Now that your occlumency has remained stable, I think it’s about time you knew some things.

Harry perked, suddenly more interested. A part of him had been itching to know what was hidden behind Hermione’s well guarded mind, and the sudden arrival of so many familiar faces was a question itching to be answered.

Aleksander had silently gathered up tinder and wood for a fire, dug a pit, and had a warm fire going without a word being said. The heat from the fire was comforting.

“You know that I’ve been taking more than just lessons under Professor Snape as his Apprentice,” Hermione began, “but what you haven’t been told is that I’m also training under the rest of the Order to do whatever their speciality is. Professor Moody was only one part of it. I also have been training with Tonks, Sirius, and Remus. And I think you’ve suspected I’ve been training with these guys here for longer than the last few months.”

Harry nodded mutely. Many questions swirled in his mind, but it all boiled down to one. “Why, Hermione? What can be so important that you are taking on so much?”

Hermione gave a half smile, looking down before looking back at him again. “You, Harry.”

“Me?” Harry mouthed. “Why me?”

“The Dark Lord is interested in you, Harry,” Remus said sadly. “That alone, while not the only reason, is enough of one to worry about.”

Hermione unwrapped a bundle from her robes and laid it out on the blanket before her. It was a crystal ball. Mist swirled both upon it and within. “And this is why.”

Harry scooted down from his perch on the rock and joined them by the fire. He reached out to the crystal ball tentatively as afraid it might shatter to pieces on his touch. “I thought you said divination is rubbish?”

Hermione smirked. “More often than not, it is.”

“But this?” Harry asked.

“Less rubbish than the rest,” Hermione said grimly. “One of her only…true prophecies.”

Harry picked up the crystal and peered within it. The mist swirled violently in his hand and then cleared, showing a younger, but no less odd looking Sybil Trelawney. Save a few age lines, the woman looked the same as she did now. Her nasal voice droned, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" (OotP)

Harry’s hand trembled and he set the globe down with haste to the blanket, and Hermione instantly reached out to cradle it, covering it with the layers of fabric, and tucking it away into her robe before Harry’s hand finished dropping.

“That is what he wants so bad?” Harry whispered. “That is why he sent me that vision?”

“Half of that prophecy is what took your parents, Harry,” Sirius said grimly. “The other half is what he wants to hear.”

“He wants,” Remus said. “All of it. Perhaps to insure you aren’t around to defeat him again.”

Harry frowned. “It says… neither can live while the other survives… does that mean one of us has to kill the other?”

“Eventually, da,” Viktor said, his black eyes flickered in the firelight. “Figure… why your Headmaster vant you so protected.”

“Also why he want your mind closed to Dark Lord,” Lazar said. “Otherwise anything you know, Dark Lord use against you and everyone you know.”

“One opening give you horrible nightmare,” Valko said. “Consider vat it would be like if you had large opening that never closed.”

Harry paled, suddenly very ashamed at how long it took him to take the occlumency lessons seriously. The Durmstrang had tried to teach him for a good part of the year, but he hadn’t truly practised with his heart in it until he had seen the true face of his teenage father in Snape’s memories… a lazy, arrogant, self-important boy that would have rather strung up Snape by his ankles and pulled down his pants than stood up for something noble.

“You’ve all been trying to protect me,” Harry said, suddenly more aware of hundred different meanings to little conversations over the last few years. All of them were conversations he had taken offence to because he had thought they were keeping him out of the loop because they thought him too young or too incompetent to be useful.

Harry made a fist. “What do I need to do?”

Hermione closed her eyes and opened them again with a sigh. “This will be dangerous, Harry. Perhaps just as dangerous as if you had rushed in after the vision of Sirius being tortured.”

Harry shook his head. “I want to do my part.”

“We made a fake prophecy and replaced the one you just saw with it. It is charmed to be just as hard to remove as the original,” Hermione said. “We need you to goto bed one night without your full occlumency, just enough to get the sending of the next ‘vision’ and then act as though you are acting on it. It is imperative that whoever You-Know-Who is sending to get that prophecy gets it. The wrong one.”

Harry nodded. He pulled the Army galleon out of his pocket and fingered it. “About time we made use of these, eh?”

Hermione nodded grimly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hours later, Harry finally felt like he was ready. He wasn’t sure what he was ready for, but he felt ready for something more significant than a nightmare. He fingered the coin for Dumbledore’s Army, feeling the warmth of it as he sent out the message for volunteers for a helping with an unknown mission. He knew there would those who would decline, and part of him was glad of it. He didn’t want anyone attending who didn’t whole-heartedly want to be. He felt bad enough endangering anyone for his cause, and with that revelation, he suddenly realised the reason why he couldn’t fault Hermione, Sirius, Remus… or anyone who was protecting him for keeping him out of the fray as long as possible. He wanted to protect the people important to him while keeping them out of danger too.

Remus, Sirius, Hermione and her brothers had left him about a half hour ago to prepare. Hermione and Viktor had said there was an intruder in the forest that had to be dealt with, especially if Harry was going to setting up a meeting with members of the Army. Harry watched them go with slight confusing, wondering how they knew that there was an intruder in a forest of this size without having left the hill they were on all night, but then again… he wasn’t exactly at home in the woods. Viktor and his comrades spent long hours hunting in the forests, he knew, and he supposed Hermione must have gone with them on a number of their hunts.

The rustling of footsteps came up behind him, and Harry turned around to see Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Ron all shuffled up to the place where Harry was sitting.

“We got the message,” Neville said, brandishing the message galleon before pocketing it.

“We’re ready to help,” Luna said, her normally dreamy tone was strangely serious.

Ginny nodded. “Tell us what you need of us.”

Harry stood. “The truth is, I don’t know what we are going to face going in there,” admitted Harry. “I have no idea what I’m asking of you, but I know I am asking a lot of you… to trust me that something horrible is going to happen if we don’t go to the Department of Mysteries… but there is a chance that something equally horrible is going to happen even if we do.”

“Wonderful pep talk, mate,” Ron said sullenly.

Neville took in a breath. “This is what we trained for. To make a difference. If we never use what we learnt, then all we accomplished is words.”

Harry sighed. “I’m probably going to have a vision some night soon. It could be as soon as tomorrow night or a few days from now—I can’t be sure. But when it comes, we’ll need to get to the Department of Mysteries and find something there.”

“We going to have to get it out? Whatever it is?” Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. “I know this sounds strange, but we just have to find it. Once we do, we let the ones who want it have it, and we get out of there as fast as possible.”

“We’re going in there to find something we aren’t leaving with?” Luna questioned.

Harry nodded. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“It’s a little odd, mate, but we’re here for you,” Ron said. “If you think it’s important, I’m willing to bet it is.”

Neville and Luna nodded. Ginny look in a deep breath and nodded as well, but she looked confused as to the fuss over something they weren’t even going to take.

“So how are we going to get there?” Ginny asked. “The floos have been locked down since Umbridge was in office, and I don’t think there was any reason to reopen them?”

“You won’t, pet,” an oily voice answered her from the gloom. “Ah, ah, no wands. You wouldn’t want your little friend to have something unfortunate happen to her, now would you?”

A tall man stood in the shadow of the trees. His one arm was out, pointing his wand squarely at the group, but the other had Hermione in a choke hold. Hermione’s face was panicked, as was to be expected when a Death Eater had her in a strangle hold.

“Imagine my Lord’s pleasure, when he finds out that I killed the annoying little stone in his shoe,” the masked man crowed. He shook Hermione with a jerk. “Now, get over there in a group, there’s a good bunch of blood traitors.”

The Death Eater’s mask turned to Hermione. “I will enjoy torturing you, little Mud-blood. Your Master isn’t here to protect you. We made sure of that.” He pointed his wand at her, hissing something, and a line of blood cut across her neck, and Hermione struggled against him, but he jerked her still.

Harry looked about ready to rush forward, but two things happened that made Harry pause. The Death Eater pointed his wand at him again, and Hermione’s eyes looked at him sharply. They were practically black, her face was impassive. There was no fear in her stance anymore… her lips were pressed into a line, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward in ghost of a smile that seemed out of place on her face, considering the situation.

It was then that Harry saw the trickle of her blood drip off her chin and sail towards the ground in seeming slow motion. Hermione’s eyes closed, and the drop hit the ground.

A flash of heat extended outward as a powerful wave of magic that was far too ancient to be denied flared upward from the ground from the shedding of her blood. As if the ground itself recognised her blood and the call of her will, the ground shook and cracked, and the Death Eater went off balance, attention diverted, and it was all Hermione needed.

With a hiss that seemed right out of Parseltongue, Hermione was free, and her hand was at the Death Eater’s throat. Clenching into his windpipe with her goblin-forged silver armour. She slammed the Death Eater against the old oak tree trunk, as her knee came up and slammed into his nethers, causing the Death Eater to lose all pretence of dignity. His wand moved in his free arm, but then three sets of jaws clamped onto his wrist, causing the man to howl in a new kind of pain.

Cerberus tore into the skin and tendons of his arm, sparing nothing, and the wand fell to the ground.

“Harry, pick up the wand,” Hermione said acerbically, her teeth clenched as every muscle she had was poised to counter any move the Death Eater attempted to make.

“Mud-blood bitch,” he hissed at her. “My Lord will see your body tortured and violated as befits your tainted nonmagical blood.”

Harry rushed forward and grabbed the wand as Luna, Ginny, and Neville had the sense of mind to pull theirs out and point it at the Death Eater.

“Avada Kedavra!” came a voice from the other side of the clearing and multiple things happened at once. Hermione dove out of sight, a green beam went shooting off to where Hermione had stood, slamming into the Death Eater she had been holding, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Luna went diving into random directions, and Viktor stepped out of the darkness from where the killing curse had come from, his arm around another Death Eater’s neck, his fingers wrapped around the cords of his throat, effectively paralysing him.

“Bind him,” Viktor said, jerking his arm as the Death Eater struggled in his grip.

Luna pointed her wand at the Dark wizard and said, “Incarcerous!” Ropes spun around the wizard until he was fully bound.

Neville quickly pointed his wand at the wizard’s face, “Silencio!”

“Stupefy!” Ron yelled at the same time, and the Dark Wizard went limp.

Viktor released his hand from the man’s throat and shoved him against the nearby tree, binding him to it.

Harry’s eyes flicked over to Viktor and saw blood trickling down his arm, and some was seeping through his shirt. Viktor’s eyes were dark and unreadable, his lips curved into a half snarl as they parted slightly. He lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he stared into Harry’s face and then looked around the clearing.

There was a snap of a branch and everyone spun to face the direction at once. Hermione stepped back into the clearing, her arm keeping a Death Eater in a pinning hold as she walked forward.

The figure struggled, kicking out with their legs, as their teeth bared. Baleful yellow eyes stared out at them through a nasty rat’s nest of hair as foam flecked around their mouth.

“Hrrrrrrkkkkkk!” a gravelly female voice snarled. There was no mask on the witch, but her wild and matted hair was covering her muddy face so effectively that her gender was hidden until she spoke. “Fenrir will eat your hearts!” she screamed. “All of you will die! Our kind will devour you all!”

Hermione’s clawed hand clutched the woman’s throat, the tips of her clawed armour clenched into the straining tendons of her neck.

The wild woman was attempting to snap and snarl at Hermione, but the more she struggled, the tighter Hermione’s grip became, and the deeper her artificial talons dug into her neck, until finally the female werewolf gave off a pitiful animalistic whine.

“Bind her,” Hermione said as she jerked the werewolf still.

“Petrificus Totalus,” Neville said as he pointed his wand at the female werewolf.

The woman stiffened like a board and fell flat on her face.

Hermione curled her lip up in a disdainful look.

Ginny pointed her wand at the body-bound werewolf and said, “Incarcerous!” causing ropes to surround her body.

There was a heavy dragging sound, and Harry and Ron pointed their wands in that direction, but Hermione raised her hand and waved them off.

Cerberus was dragging in a bound body by the ankle to where they were, all three heads clamping onto a different area of the unfortunate Death Eater.

Viktor inhaled loudly and let out his breath, spitting out something in Bulgarian that did not sound remotely friendly as his nostrils flared.

Hermione lifted her head, lips parted slightly, and nostrils flaring in a mirrored action. Hermione snorted, as if to clear her nose, and replied to Viktor in Bulgarian. Her eyes fell on the dead Death Eater that was still against the tree she had pinned him against earlier. “Four accounted for. There were no others,” she said in English in a fluid switch.

Viktor moved over to her smoothly, touching her hair and pressing her to his shoulder as his nostrils pressed into her hair and he breathed in. He mumbled something in Bulgarian, too concerned to make the swap to English.

“Blagodaria, dobre sam,” Hermione whispered a reply. “I’m okay, I promise. Oveshtavam.”

Viktor pressed his face deeper into her hair.

“Oveshtavam,” Hermione repeated softly but more insistent.

They stood together silently as Viktor reassured himself that Hermione was, as she kept trying to reassure him, unharmed. Her promises that she was okay seemed to fall on deaf ears the first ten or so times she said it, but gradually she seemed to get through to him.

The only ones that seemed unperturbed by Viktor and Hermione’s public display was Luna, who had a childlike face of wonder and approval and Ginny who seemed both too glad to be alive to care and much too smug about Hermione being with Viktor to take it poorly. Ron looked decidedly uncomfortable with the confirmation that Hermione was deep enough in the relationship to know Bulgarian. Neville was just plain uncomfortable in general, and Harry was too busy wondering what else was going to stalk out of the forest and try to kill them all to be worried about much else.

There was a series of multiple cracks and Moody and Tonks materialised in the clearing, wands out as they stood back to back. Little Vik fluttered off of Tonk’s shoulder and dove into Hermione’s hair.

“All clear,” Hermione said softly. She gestured to the three Death Eaters and random werewolf in rapid succession. She knelt down to pet Cerberus with affectionate pats, softly praising him for his work. The three-headed pup wagged his tail furiously, licking under her chin.

“Why is this one dead?” Moody grunted, jabbing the Death Eater with his boot.

“That one,” Viktor said calmly, “vas aiming for Harry. I jostled his arm, but the spell went vide and hit his comrade.”

Moody grunted. “Well at least it didn’t hit one of you.”

Neville, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Luna nodded in agreement with rapid head nods.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks said as she stood by him. “You all right?”

Harry nodded to her, a little shaken, but recovering.

Tonks gave him a warm smile and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Battles are always significant. They take time to process.”

“How do you think they found us?” Neville asked. “This is a really random hill.”

“Were they watching for us?” Ginny asked.

Hermione, seemingly relaxed now that the battle was over, had a calm about her that was boggling. She was patting down the nearby Death Eater that Cerberus had dragged in by the ankles. She pulled something out from their robe.

A galleon coin.

“They knew because they were told exactly where we were meeting,” she said grimly, realising her luck in picking the one Death Eater of the bunch that had the damning evidence.

“What?” Ron gaped. “But only the people in the Army had those coins. Students from Hogwarts…”

Neville patted his robes and pulled out his coin in a panic, confirmed that he had his own galleon, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione approached the fire, tilting the coin in the light to read the edge. “This was Marietta’s coin. Somehow it got into the hand of Death Eaters. Could have happened anytime before or after Umbridge obliviated her. No way of knowing for certain unless one of these three have loose lips.”

“I’ll keep that, if you don’t mind,” Moody said. “I’ll need it for the interrogation. This… Marietta, obliviated or no, may be willing participant in this chain of events.”

Hermione placed the coin in his hand, nodding solemnly.

Tonks turned the werewolf over and peered at her dishevelled appearance. “Definitely one of Greyback’s. They always look like they’ve crawled out of hibernation with a bear. I’m not sure how he keeps them loyal when he treats them worse than dogs.”

Viktor’s nostrils flared. “Abuse,” he said after a moment. “Raw power and violence.”

Tonk’s eyes softened. “It’s no wonder he’s so ashamed of what he is most days,” she said in hardly a whisper.

Harry and Ron, close enough to hear, closed their eyes solemnly, knowing who she was really talking about.

Tonks and Moody moved the bodies together and shook their heads together. They patted the bodies down, looking for anything that could clue them in. Moody removed the masks off the non-werewolves.

“I don’t recognise these faces at all. How about you, Tonks?” he grunted.

Tonks frowned. “This one I do,” she said grimly. “This was Thaw Claypoole. His family has been trying to buy off young Aurors for the last few years. Nothing we can by sure of, but before you cracked down on the trainees needing to be paired with an experienced Auror at all times, there were some oddball gifts that never quite fit the situations.”

Moody used his wand to pull up Claypoole’s sleeve. The Dark Mark squirmed like a living thing upon his arm, even though he was quite dead. He looked at the gathered students with a critical eye. “Are you all okay? No wounds?”

Negative shakes of the head answered him.

“Good,” Moody said with a sigh. “Small favours. Any of you recognise one of these rejects?”

“I don’t recognise most of them,” Luna said in her far away voice, “but this one used to visit my father every week for the news before he published. His name is Bors Embry. His son, Deakin, is in Ravensclaw, and has always done his best to distance himself from his father. He has the… scars of his Father’s attempts to… make him see the errors of his ways. He’s in the hospital wing right now. He said he fell down the stairs last night, but some of us knew better.”

Ginny looked like she was going to hurl. Her family may not be the richest pure-blood family, but they were never short of love, and being confronted with some of the true faces of pure-blood “upbringing” was not settling well.

Moody looked disgusted, even more than usual. He sniffed. “Well, I will take care of the mess up here. I will have reinforcements homing in on my position here shortly. Tonks, if you would escort these folks back to Hogwarts to make sure they get there safely?”

“Of course, Alastor,” Tonks said, smiling at the rest of them. “Let’s get a move on, friends. Probably been a long night for you all.”

“Granger, Krum,” Moody interjected. “Stay please.”

Hermione and Viktor nodded grimly and stayed as Tonks led the others back down the hill towards Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“How much do they know?” Moody asked as Hermione and Viktor pulled their gaze away from each of the Death Eaters they were filtering through their minds. Each of them pressed their hands to their Death Eater’s foreheads, tracing a glyph upon their skin and the Death Eaters’ eyes rolled back into their head and they went limp once more. “Neat trick,” Moody said with a grunt. Durmstrang fare?”

Viktor nodded. “Ve are… well acquainted vith obtaining and dealing with… captives.”

Moody lifted a brow, knowing that Durmstrang’s view of traitors was as merciless as the northern weather.

Hermione let the the last of the group drop back into the pile. “They know nothing. They obtained the coin from someone who may have been Marietta trying to buy herself passage out of London.”

“May have been?” Moody asked.

“Right build, right face, but we both know that doesn’t mean anything anymore,” Hermione said.

Moody grunted and nodded in agreement. “We’ll leave the rest to formal inquiry if you are sure there is no immediate danger to Potter’s mission.”

Viktor shook his head. “Their heads are full of cobwebs and thin paper valls. Dat they found coin pure luck. That they were holding it when it sent out message, equally lucky for them, but they were foolish. Instead of sharing it with the rest, they came alone to gain the glory for themselves.”

“There are times I am perfectly glad that You-Know-Who makes everything a contest. It makes our work easier at times like this,” Moody said. “Any idea why they were out here to begin with?”

Hermione nudged the body of Thaw Claypoole. “Thaw Claypoole took the other three out on patrol into the Dark Forest under orders to intercept Harry if he tried to goto Hogsmeade to find a way to the Ministry from what the other memories said. Today was the first day, but they were prepared to wait however long.”

Cracks of apparition broke the conversation as four other Aurors appeared. Moody barked orders in rapid succession, and soon the three captives and body were whisked a way to the Auror’s Office.

“Is Potter ready, Granger?” Moody said as he leaned on his walking stick.

“Ready as he can be, considering,” Hermione said with a sad tone.

Alastor rotated his shoulders and nodded. “Good luck, then,” he said. “I will send word to Snape if more information is exposed from the inquiry.”

Hermione nodded as Moody grunted and disapparated.

Viktor wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him gently. Cerberus sat at their feet and leaned his heads against their thighs. Both of them patted him gently.

Hermione burrowed her face into Viktor’s shoulder, inhaling deeply, and with a crack, they too, were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus was waiting for her the moment she returned to the Aerie. Before she could even consider retreated to the shower to clean off the grime of the evening, his arms enfolded her and drew her into him, smothering her with his strong scent and warmth.

Cerberus went tearing off into the main bathroom, and the sounds of splashing in the pools signalled the pups excitement to be clean.

“I’m so glad you are okay, Master,” she whispered. “Thaw Claypoole told me you were ‘occupied’ so you could not help me, and your mind was blocked from me, so I couldn’t feel you.”

Snape soothed her hair gently as he massaged her scalp. “I am sorry, daughter,” he soothed. “I was summoned, and I had to be very careful. The Dark Lord is attempting to find Dumbledore, as he believes he is the one who captured and hid his pet. His interest in Harry seems to wax and wane with the predictability of an angry wolverine, and I am not the only one to sense cracks in his mental stability. It does not make him less dangerous, I fear.”

Hermione nodded, snuggling into her father’s robes with more relief to find him okay than the end of the battle they had on the hillside.

“Go shower,” Severus chuckled as he ruffled her bushy hair. “You are positively noisome.”

Hermione looked up at him indignantly and stalked off to the showers.

Severus sighed deeply as he watched both his daughter and Viktor stalk off to separate bathrooms to wash the grime off. He sat down by the fire, wearily allowing his body to relax now that his daughter was safely home.

A slightly damp Cerberus padded into the room and snuggled up against him.

“Ugh, wet dog,” he grunted as three muzzles snuggled into his chest and slurped his face. “Blech.”

Steam was already rising off the drying three-headed canine thanks to the nearby fire. Severus patted the dog absently as he snuggled up against him with a whine and his wagging tail beat into him rhythmically.

His eyes were already closing when the familiar press of Hermione’s fur and feathers snuggled into his back and her wing spread across his body and over Cerberus. Her eagle head curved around his. There was a soft whine and some adjusting as Viktor snuggled into Hermione and tucked his wing over hers as his long peacock tail curved around them both, giving the sleeping pile its own feathered blanket.

:I love you, father,: Hermione’s warm mental voice purred as she fell into sleep.

Severus’ hand curled around one of her large eagle talons, his large hand seeming so very small against the size of just one of her long black scythes. He grasped the nearest talon with his hand and squeezed gently. :I love you too, daughter.:

The soft sounds of their sleep was interrupted by a certain dog passing gas.

“Eaghhhh! Foul creature of darkness,” Severus moaned, shoving Cerberus out of the pile.

Hermione made a distressed chirp as she tried to bury her beak into Severus’ back, and Viktor scrunched up his nose and attempted to paw at it with his front paws.

Both of them fanned their wings repeatedly, dispersing the foul scent from their sleeping space.

After a few minutes, they had returned into a comfortable position with Cerberus banished from the pile. The pup whined apologetically, trying to wedge himself back under the wings and tail blocking his way back to where he had been cuddling before.

Two sets of black eyes and one set of brown glared at the pup in an accusatory manner.

Cerberus set his heads on the ground and whined piteously, tail wagging hopefully.

Finally, when Cerberus became silent, the wings lifted and tailed pulled away just long enough for the pup to wiggle his way back under and curl next to Severus.

“No more chewing on Death Eaters before bed, dog,” Severus murmured as he fell asleep.

Cerberus’ tail beat steadily against the ground as the pile systematically fell asleep together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw: for those wondering what the Bulgarian was, it was basically Hermione saying “Thank you, I’m okay/I’m fine. I promise. I promise.” She had to keep saying it because she knew he wasn’t taking her at her word at that given moment, so she repeated it a few times until he did. Just FYI. :)


	66. Battle at the Ministry of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and company raid the Ministry of Magic, hoping to insure the wrong prophecy is delivered.

**Chapter 66: Battle at the Ministry of Magic**

The nightmare vision came with more of a sense of urgency this time, and it took every bit of occlumency Harry had to damper his immediate reaction to go flooing Sirius yet again.  He wanted to make sure he really wasn’t bound and being tortured somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.

He quickly pulled out the bronze coin that Hermione had charmed out of Fred and George’s stash of fake wizard coins that had parodies of renowned wizards on them. Hermione had decided, at least until they could figure out who had their DA coins and who didn’t, that using a new set for their mission would be best. To add to the enchantment, however, she made it so any coin that got too far away from its designated person grew very heavy and eventually embedded itself into the ground and refused to move. To add to Hermione’s paranoia charms, she made it so the coin would not “work” if it were not being held by the person it was attuned to.  This ensuring that any communication they sent to each other through them would remain with their small group.

Concentrating on the message he wanted to send, Harry rubbed the coin between his fingers and breathed on it, then tucked it into his pocket.

Pulling on his travel cloak, he tucked his wand safely away. Ron was pulling on a sweater and his muggle jeans, tucking his wand into his pocket as he nodded to Harry. “Ready when you are, mate,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Harry and Ron made their way down to the Common Room quietly and jumped as Neville stood from the chair by the door.

“Bloody hell, Neville,” Ron said. “When did you get so stealthy?”

Neville gave a sheepish shrug.

Ginny came bouncing down the stairwell with long steps, screeching to a halfway down as she realised she forgot something and raced back up the stairs only to come back down a few seconds later.

Ron shook his head. “Girls.”

Ginny ffffted as she went by, smacking Ron upside the head.

They made their way past Mrs. Norris after releasing a wind-up trilobite in the hall. The cat couldn’t resist the impulse to chase it, and once she went the one direction, they dashed the other. They weren’t sure who was going to be on patrol that particular night, but it was better not to be seen at all.

Luna met them on the pathway to the Dark Forest. They made their way down towards Hagrid’s hut and carefully sneaked to the path that led within.

“This place is scary enough in the daytime,” Ron complained.

Harry nodded, but the stayed on the trail. They came to a fork in the road, and he remembered Hermione had told him to go to the left, deeper into the forest, and despite the fact the trail seemed even less hospitable, he led them down it.

It was about twenty minutes in before they came to a clearing, and Hermione was waiting, leaning against a tree trunk. She had an old fashioned lantern hanging on the branch near her, and on the branch next to that, was hanging a bloody haunch of… something that had met its demise not so long ago. Blood was dripping from the haunch, and Hermione made no motion to do anything about it.

“Hermione, why did you bring us way out here?” Neville asked nervously as he eyed the bleeding haunch.

“Thestrals, of course,” Luna said in a sing-song voice.

As if to a summons, dark shapes with glowing silver eyes walked into the clearing. They lipped at the offering Hermione had left hanging for them, lapping at the blood with their tongues and ripping off pieces with a surprising amount of care. Unlike lions or vultures on a carcass, the herd that was coming in was fully inclined to share, and they ripped off pieces and stood to the side so others in the herd could come up and share the spoils. There were even young foals amongst the group, and the adults were tearing off pieces with their sharp teeth and offering it up to the young foals as well.

The herd made droning, whale-like sounds as they filtered in and out of the clearing, their wings flapping as their leathery skin glistened in the moonlight.

“Why can I see them?” Ginny gasped. “I can see them this time!”

Ron looked around him with a bit of panic in his eyes as the skeletal looking thestrals moved around him, paying him no mind in their effort to partake of the feast.

Harry, too, found the sight shocking. These were no outlines of something being in the mist. This time, he could see every detail. Their glistening skin and their defined bones as well as their glowing eyes held him entranced. He wondered how he could see them so clearly as well until he remembered… only those who had seen death could see a thestral. The Death Eater that had died to his comrades killing curse had satisfied that requirement.

One of the foals was keening forlornly at the haunch, too small to reach it, and ignored by the adults, who had their foals to feed. Hermione pushed her way in, her hand splayed outward as her index finger talon sliced down the haunch and loosed a section off. She pulled it free and let the little foal off to the side, holding it out as the little creature gnawed and sucked on the section of meat, trying to figure out how to get its coveted essence into its belly.

“Best grab one that had already eaten, preferably one that doesn’t have a foal,” Hermione said in an amused tone. She held out her fingers to the foal to lick clean, totally nonplussed that the little carnivorous oddity was taking her fingers into its mouth and sucking on them.

“How are we supposed—” Ron started to say as Luna grabbed the mane of one thestral and pulled herself up on its back. “Oh.”

Harry managed to grab one of the adult thestrals that didn’t seem to have a baby, grasping the mane in his hands. He led the thestral over to a fallen log and used the log to clamber onto the creature’s back.

Ron tried to jump onto the thestral’s back, and it took a few jump attempts before he managed to get his stomach on the thestral’s back and swing his leg around.

Neville seemed too awkward to be sure which side to be on, let alone how to get on the thestral. Hermione came over to him; the young thestral she had befriended was following, chewing on her robes as it tugged and followed her around.

Hermione locked her hands together for Neville to get help up, and he put his foot on her makeshift stair and managed to pull himself up onto the thestrals back. “Hold onto the mane, Neville,” Hermione said gently. “Tuck your chest to his neck, there you go, and keep your toes pointed in. If you are going to give her a death grip, keep it around the neck, but not with your legs. If she feels you clamp your legs onto her, she will think you want to go faster.”

Neville paled as Hermione mentioned the possibility of going faster at all considering he hadn’t left the ground yet.

Hermione’s tag-along was nipping at her sleeve, taking her wrist in his mouth and gently tugging at it.

“Where is your dam, little guy?” Hermione asked softly.

A droning cry came from the far side of the clearing, and the little foal perked his ears and nickered. The mare trotted over quickly, snuffling her foal with nips of her leathery lips.

Hermione smiled as she made her way to one of the adults that did not have a foal with them. She patted the thestral gently and leapt upon her back, tucking herself in front of her wings and behind the neck.

“Just say Ministry of Magic, visitor’s entrance,” Hermione said.

One by one, the thestrals took to the air. Luna took the lead; Harry came up after her, Ron gave a gasp of surprise as his thestral went after.

“You can do it Neville,” Hermione said with a smile.

Neville gulped and said, “Ministry of Magic, visitor’s entrance.”

The thestral shifted its weight a few times and took off with Neville giving the animal a death grip around the neck.

Hermione smirked, patting the thestral she was on gently on the side of the neck. “Ready, Draco?” she asked softly, putting her hand to her neck.

Gently, the smooth scales of her serpent brother slid against her fingers; his darkly coloured head touched her fingers as his tongue slid out and tasted her fingertips with a tickling sensation. Little Vik chirped readiness from her hair, and she shook her head to cover up where Draco was hiding as he made himself into her private Inland Taipan choker.

“Ministry of Magic, visitor’s entrance, my friend,” Hermione asked the thestral.

The thestral whickered softly and leapt into the air, carrying her with all speed to her requested destination.

: We’re off, my Master: she touched her Master’s mind as the wind hit her face so fast it brought tears to her eyes.

: Be safe, my Apprentice,” Severus replied to her. : I will alert the others.:

Hermione lay herself on the thestral’s warm neck, wrapping her arms around her as she relaxed her seat and moved with her thestral’s slight shifts in sway.

It felt odd to be a passenger on a flight, and she grinned. What was life if you couldn’t change it up every so often? Her hand reached to touch Draco’s curl of scales around her neck, and she smiled, feeling the warmth of her scaly brother transmit the reassurance he could not express with words.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Neville, it seemed, made a trusty friend that evening. By the time, the group of them landed, Neville was giving the thestral a hug around the neck after he dismounted. He patted the thestral on the soft nose, and the thestral seemed equally happy to snuffle his face in return, making a soft whale-like drone as it ruffled its wings.

Ron, however, tumbled off his thestral with the haste of a man late for his evening prayers as he kissed the ground, spouting, “Never again.” He staggered away from the ride with half-bowlegged legs and an expression that seemed torn between relief and nausea.

“For someone who spends so much time on a broom,” Ginny said as she slid off the back of her thestral, “you look ready to hurl, bro.”

Ron shot daggers at his sister with his eyes but turned his face away, looking like he was searching for a corner to do just that.

Harry slid off his thestral’s back with more style than Ron, patting the creature thankfully for the smooth landing and ride, staring at the part of the street they had landed in.

There was an overflowing dumpster nearby that seemed to be a siren’s call to the thestrals, and they made a line towards it, snuffling through it to occupy themselves as Harry’s rescue party gathered around him.

Ron pointed to the vandalised telephone box nearby, the colour of it seemed even more abnormal thanks to the sodium-vapour street lamps that seemed to cast everything with a sickly orange glow.

Luna seemed to have found it first, as she she stepped out of the phone box and waved to them. “Over here,” she beckoned. Luna’s thestral, which somehow managed to fit into the telephone box, walked out, heading towards the overly full dumpster with the other thestrals, making a curious and excited whickering sound.

Ron and Ginny shrugged and walked into the telephone box, Ron having regained some colour into his face, making his complexion look just as unnaturally orange like the rest of them. Neville stared at the box with suspicion but stepped in, squashing himself against Ron and Ginny. Hermione, looking terribly out of place in her black robes next to the rest of them in their casual Muggle clothing, arched an eyebrow at the phone box as one would regard an alligator in one’s prize koi pond.

“Come on, Hermione,” Harry said with a smile. “You’ve faced Death Eaters. Surely a telephone box is nothing compared to that.”

Hermione gave him a look that translated into something along the line of, “sure, and that never requires me to stuff myself into a small place like a John West tuna steak in a can.”

Harry put his hand on her shoulder and smiled encouragingly. Hermione’s lips flattened into a line, and she stepped into the crowded box, allowing Harry to bring up the rear and smash himself in behind her.

“Hey, Neville,” Ron said with a wheeze. “You seem closer. Dial six, two, four, four, two! Merlin, I hope that is the right number.”

Neville looked dubious as he bent his arm strangely to reach the dial, his finger slipping a few times, so he had to bash the cradle to start over a couple times with a curse.

Finally the dial settled, and a cool female voice came from all around them. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,” Harry said very quickly, “Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood . . .

We’re here to save someone unless your Ministry can do it first!”

“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.” (OotP 768)

Badges shot out of the metal chute that served as the returned coin slot and smacked Ron in the face. “Glorious,” Ron muttered, patting his hand on his face to gather the badges.

Badges were spread around the cramped box until everyone had a badge. Each of them had their names clearly emblazoned on the front, and under it was written “rescue mission.”

Ginny looked at the name badge with resigned disbelief. Harry looked down at his with a half curled lip and shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“Visitors to the Ministry are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.” (OoTP 768)

“Yes! Fine!” Harry yelled towards the receiver.

Ginny grunted as Harry’s arm shoved into her face.

“Sorry,” Harry said, struggling to not jam his entire arm into her nose.

Finally, the floor of the telephone box shuddered and the platform they were standing on moved downward. The street they had been on the level with disappeared above them as the platform carried them down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

The Atrium appeared below them, and each of them braced for what could be a battle from the very moment they arrived, considering they had just given their names to the unknown voice in order to get in. Strangely enough, or perhaps a blessing that no one took them seriously, no one was waiting in the Atrium for them. The moment the door opened, the disembodied female voice wished them a “pleasant evening,” and they tumbled out of the small cramped box and put their backs to each other, wands ready.

The Atrium, however, was deserted. If there had been the equivalent of magical tumbleweeds, there would have been some bouncing on their way with some combination of eerie whistling music as they walked through a deserted down with boarded up windows and doors at high noon.

“Do you think my father warned people to leave in case there was a fight?” Ron asked into the silence.

“Wouldn’t that tip You-Know-Who off?” Ginny asked.

“I’m just saying,” Ron said. “It’s kind of eerie in here tonight. This place is usually crawling with people at all hours.”

Harry shrugged. “Hermione, can you point the way to the Department of Mysteries?”

Hermione was frozen in place, her head tilted upward, nostrils flaring as her lips were slightly parted. She looked like she was poised to run at any moment, but then her eyes narrowed, and she looked at Harry. “This way,” she said, hurrying past the large golden fountain in the middle of the Atrium. The rush of water concealed their footsteps.

They came to a desk that was marked “Security Check-in” and found it abandoned. “Now I know something is off,” Ron said. “Every time I’ve come to visit dad with mum, this desk was attended by no less than three wizards or witches.

“I just hope nothing happened to them,” Harry said quietly, his sense of foreboding was increasing with each step they took. The lifts were nearby; signs marked with different department names. Department of Mysteries was marked with a silver nine on the nearby sign. “Nine,” Harry said.

They all shuffled into the nearby lift, which thankfully had more room than the telephone box, and Harry punched the number nine. The golden grilles slid closed as the lift descended with a combination of whirring and rattling sounds that were far from comforting. In fact, he was quite willing at that point to take his chances with riding a thestral to where he needed to go than take the lift. The lift felt like it was going to blow itself to pieces with the racket it was making.

“Well, if they didn’t know we were here before,” Neville said. “The din from this horrible contraption just let everything around know we are here now.”

Harry nodded grimly. “Be ready,” he said. There wasn’t much else he could say. They were heading straight for the kind of danger every person with half a brain cell left to them would recognise as being something you didn’t walk into.  At least you wouldn’t without backup, friends, allies, and maybe a small army. He would have to settle for friends that were his allies. Good friends. The kind of friends that walked into the dragon’s lair with you and hopefully remembered the flame immunity potions…

The gate opened with a rattle as the same cool female voice said “Department of Mysteries.” The stepped out into the corridor and looked around suspiciously. The corridor was quiet and vacant, and the only movement was from the flickering of the torches due to the air released by the lift. There was a plain black door ahead of them.

“The door from my visions,” Harry said grimly.

They passed through the door with trepidation, and as they closed the door behind them, it took their eyes quite a bit of time to adjust to the dim torches above.

The room was circular, and they realised that they were now surrounded by multiple doors. All of them looked the same.

“Hermione,” Harry said. “Can you remember which door you took when you rescued Mr. Weasley?”

Hermione was still, her eyes were flicking from each of the highly identical doors. She had her hand on her throat, and her eyes closed.

“’Mione?” Ron asked, reaching as if to touch her.

Ginny grabbed his hand and shook her head.

“Come on,” Harry said. “Let’s check some of the doors. Maybe I will see something I recognise from my dreams.”

Hermione was frozen in place, her eyes still closed, showing no sign of following, agreeing, or even disagreeing.

Harry opened one door and saw a strangely desolate chamber save for a tank in the middle where pearl coloured objects of some sort were swimming in dark green water.

“Jellyfish?” Ginny asked.

“Aquavirius maggots!” Luna recommended.

“Brains,” Harry said with wide eyes.

“What?” Neville blurted, peering into the tank. Glistening in their tank of dark green water, the brains drifted like jellyfish in and out of sight. It was beyond eerie. Were they alive? If they were alive… whose were they? Where they coherent? Aware of their surroundings? What a horrible way to live…

“Should we try these other doors?” Ron asked.

“Hermione is still out in the main room alone,” Ginny said, wringing her hands like her mother was prone to do.

Harry shook his head. “In my vision, I went smoothly from one room to another. This room wasn’t it. Let’s get back to Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes were almost black in the gloom of the vestibule. Harry recognised immediately that she had been concentrating quite intently while they were gone off exploring like impatient kindergartners. Her fingers moved strangely, flexing outward and then in like she was grasping something in her hand that only she could see.

“Hermione?” Harry rushed up to her. “Have you remember which door?”

Hermione nodded silently, pointing to the door where a fiery blazoned rune flared across the surface in flames that did not burn.

“Brilliant,” Ron said with wide eyes.

The door opened into another corridor, and the dim torches flickered as they walked by. Hermione’s fingers traced the walls where she had walked on her way to find Arthur. This corridor, too, was abandoned. No guards or checkpoints where a person would normally be was attended.

Hermione pointed to one door along the corridor. They crept up to it, and Harry tested the door with his hand, very slowly turning the knob to be as silent as possible.

The next room was full of shelves. Shelves upon shelves of… even more shelves filled with crystal balls. “This is the room from my dreams,” Harry said nervously. “This is where I saw Sirius being tortured.”

“He is okay, right?” Neville asked softly.

Harry nodded. “Someone wanted me to think otherwise.”

“These are all prophecies,” Luna said with wonder. “All of them… real.”

“We’re supposed to find one of these… in this mess?” Ron mumbled.

“Aisle ninety-seven,” Harry whispered. “That’s all I know for sure.”

“Which aisle is this?” Neville asked, searching the shelves for some clue.

Ginny pointed to a sign on the side. “One.”

Harry slumped. “Fantastic.”

They walked down the long aisles and found a crossing path with a small sign that pointed them towards another long path going in a different direction. That led them down another path, with another sign and another direction. It seemed to be leading them back the way they came, and all the aisles seemed to resemble each other.

Trying to be fast and stealthy at the same time counteracted each other, and the group found themselves creeping along the shelves and aisles even more slowly as they came closer to the nineties.

Harry paused. The area they were in looked familiar. Superimposed on his memory, Sirius has been “tortured” here. Had it been true, however, there would have been signs of struggle. There would have been a shattered crystal by his feet. The chipped paint on this particular shelf was eerily familiar. The shape of the stands holding the crystals and glass balls were identical. Harry flinched. Had Hermione not stopped and confirmed that Sirius was alive and well, he would have brought his friends blindly to this place for a rescue that never needed to happen.

“This area was in my vision,” Harry said. “Be careful…. Well… more careful.”

His companions nodded to him silently, wands out.

“Harry, this one has your name on it,” Neville said quietly, pointing to the shelf where a medium sized crystal sat upon a pedestal. Dust covered the crystal, and an old yellowed label marked the place on the shelf:

S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

Harry stared at the crystal. Even knowing it was not the real one didn’t make it any less intimidating. The said Dark Lord was willing to torment him with false dreams of his godfather’s torture just to obtain this prophecy. Was everything going to come down to a fate he had no control over? Were people going to die over him and a fate he did not choose for himself? He knew the moment he touched the crystal, whoever was watching and waiting for him to come and fetch the crystal would make themselves known. Fate or not, he had made the choice to come and set the wheels into motion. He prayed silently that the motion he was setting was for that greater good that Dumbledore so often reminded him of.

Harry looked at Hermione and saw that her almost black eyes staring back at him. She was ready… ready to protect him. She looked very much at that moment like her Master, and at that moment, he saw just how much. She stood still, almost eerily so, with hardly the rise and fall of her chest to indicate her being alive. Her eyes reflected everything back at him, revealing no warmth but also no coldness. Hermione reached into her hair and pulled out Vik. The little hippogriff rubbed against her fingers with affection, giving a silent chirp as if to enquire what she wanted of him. Hermione cupped him in her hands and kissed his head, soothing his wings with her hand and then threw him upward. The hippogriff silently zoomed out of sight into the darkened room to a destination Harry could only assume was to warn the Order in some prearranged signal.

Harry sucked in his breath, nodded to his friends, and took the crystal off the pedestal.

The smooth surface was warm to the touch, and he brushed off the layer of dust that was coating it. If he didn’t know better, he would have though it had been waiting for over a decade for him to pick it up. The mist glowed and swirled, and a raspy hissing voice that everyone that knew belonged to the Divination Professor of Hogwarts, spewed out a prophecy:

“ _THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH-MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK ONE AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND NEITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR IF ONE DIES, SO TOO PERISHES THE OTHER…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH-MONTH DIES… TO KILL THE ONE MARKED AS HIS EQUAL WILL VANQUISH THE DARK LORD FOREVER.”_

Harry clasped the crystal in his hand tightly. The prophecy was eerily similar to the real one, yet, it had been subtly altered. Instead of proclaiming that neither could truly live while the other did, it said that killing the other would condemn the other to death… true death. This was the fly in the ointment that the Order hoped would throw the Dark Lord off Harry’s trail.

“Harry,” Luna said sharply.

“Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me,” drawled a familiar voice that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He knew that voice. He knew it as well as he might know Hermione’s or Ron’s.

Black-clad shapes were materialising around them like spectres in the mist of a graveyard. Each of them was masked and hooded. Each of them had wands pointed directly at Harry and his friends. There were more Death Eaters than friends, Harry measured, perhaps at two or three to one. It was hard to tell for sure.

Harry gathered his courage. “Where’s Sirius?”

“You know, you really should learn to tell the difference…” Lucius said venomously, his voice like velvet and syrup. He walked towards them slowly as he pulled his wand from the tip of his walking cane. “Between dreams… and the reality.” He pulled his mask off and dispelled his hood with a long pulling movement of his wand. He tilted his head to the side, as if to look at Harry from a slightly different perspective. “You saw only what the Dark Lord… wanted you to see,” he droned. “Now hand me the prophecy.”

“You do anything to us, and I’ll break it,” Harry said steadily, surprised by the lack of tremor in his voice.

An insane chuckle, both feminine and quite unstable, echoed in the darkness of the room. “He knows how to play,” the female Death Eater walked up behind Lucius, using the tip of her wand to flick her hair. “Itty, bitty…baby…Potter,” she taunted.

“Bellatrix Lestrange…” Neville said with a strange note to his voice. Of all the people they would meet here in the darkness of the Department of Mysteries, they would meet the one that would drive Neville to do something… violent and emotional.

“Neville Longbottom, is it?” Bellatrix cooed. “How are mummy and daddy?”

“Better that they are about to be avenged!” Neville hissed, pulling out his wand and damning all the consequences.

Bellatrix gasped, perhaps in surprise or perhaps in the excitement, pointing her wand gleefully at Neville.

Lucius, however, seemed to realise that Neville and Bellatrix causing a full-fledged duel right in the path of the one holding the prophecy was not what he wanted at all. “Now, let’s… everybody…just calm… down, shall we?” he drawled, putting his hands up. “All we want is that prophecy.” He kept his arm out in front of Bellatrix, and it was clear that the witch no more wanted to be leashed than she truly cared about the prophecy in favour of bloodshed.

While they were talking, Death Eaters were coming closer like encroaching orcas circling a pod of narwhals… hungry for their prey.

“If I give you this stupid ball,” Harry said. “You’ll let us go?”

Lucius lifted his hands, spreading his fingers. “I will let you go.” He held out his hand, palm up. “You have my word.”

Bellatrix bared her teeth. She didn’t seem happy at all. Harry wondered if Lucius, despite it all, would keep to his word. If he had no intention to… surely Bellatrix would be gleeful instead of unhappy.

Harry slowly walked forward and placed the ball in Lucius’ outstretched hand. His fingers closed around the prophecy and his eyes closed slowly and then opened again, and it seemed that he exhaled the breath he had been holding. He gave a curt nod, and some of the closest Death Eaters halted their approach and amazingly bowed out, disappearing back into the gloom.

“Perhaps there is more wisdom in you than your father, Potter,” Lucius said. There was an odd tone to his voice. Relief perhaps. Something else flickered across his face and then disappeared. Death Eaters were disappearing around them, dismissed by Lucius’ silent command.

Bellatrix was furious, “Oh no, I will not be denied this! ATTACK! For Lord Voldemort!” she screeched.

“No!” Lucius commanded, but Bellatrix slashed him with a spell, causing him to clutch his face where a trickle of blood dripped down his finely chiselled cheek. Lucius hissed in pain, clutching his cheek and barely keeping a hold of the prophecy. He snarled at her, raising his wand, and there was a crack as he Disapparated, leaving Bellatrix to fight her own battles.

A handful of remaining Death Eaters remained at Bellatrix’s command, and she screeched the order to attack, flinging spells at Harry’s group with gleeful abandon.

Harry and his friends, however, had not waited around for Bellatrix to attack. The moment she had turned on Lucius, they had fled down one of the aisles that the Death Eaters had abandoned on Lucius’ orders. They ran as though the hounds hell nipped at their feet. Lucius had, despite whatever misgivings Harry may have had for the man, tried to keep the spirit of his promise. It left them to deal with Bellatrix now and a handful of Death Eaters that had remained in the room with her. At least the odds were improving. Small favours.

Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were all casting spells at Death Eaters as they were swarming around them from other sides of the aisles. Broken glass and prophecies were busting all around them. Shelves were toppling, spells were zinging from multiple directions. Hermione deflected countless spells off the group, focusing on protecting them as they ran, hoping or perhaps having faith that they would, in turn, keep them off her. They seemed to be. The system seemed to be working for her, to which, panicked as he was, Harry was utterly thankful.

They made their way to a door. He couldn’t tell if it was the door they wanted, and at that point, he didn’t care where it went as long as it took them away from the insane witch that had turned their negotiation right on its arse.

The fell into a room that had a huge hourglass suspended in the middle, and there were countless odd looking bell jars. There was a huge bell jar near the hourglass where an egg was hatching and unhatching at an alarming rate. Harry’s brain made a mental note to stare at it properly when he wasn’t running for his life.

“ _Avada—_ ” a male voice started to say.

“ _STUPEFY!_ ” Hermione screamed, blowing back the Death Eater that was advancing on them. His body blew back into the bell jars, and his head ended up inside one.

“What the…” Ron and Neville said in horror as they watched the Death Eater’s head burst from the mask as grossly enlarged baby head.

“Time room,” Hermione yelled, dragging them both by the collar. “Let’s go!”

As they retreated into the next room, Hermione doubled back, flinging about six or seven spells in rapid succession, her wand hand moving with such speed that he could barely see it.

He realised with some horror that they were in the brain room again, and he wasn’t sure which of the doors was the one leading to the vestibule. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were trying doors frantically, trying to find the way out as Hermione valiantly duelled against a yet unknown Death Eater.

Ginny opened a door that led to another room instead of a closet. “I’ll take it, whatever!” Ginny yelled. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Ron, Luna, and Neville dove through the door. “Come on, Harry!” Ginny said, leaping through the door.

Harry, forgetting himself, yelled at Hermione. “Hermione, come on! Hermione!”

Harry never regretted his impulsiveness more than that moment. His frantic calling had shaken Hermione out of the space that allowed her to combat without distraction, the sound of her friend frantically calling for her broke through her concentration, and her eyes flicked over to look at him.

A blast of red smashed into her, and she went flying into the far wall, slamming against it, and sliding down in a limp heap of black. Bellatrix was suddenly on top of her, grabbing Hermione by the throat, crushing her. “Filthy little Mudblood whore,” cursed Bellatrix. “I will carve your skin with your filthy status so no one will want what is between your dirty legs.”

Harry rushed forward, pointing his wand at Bellatrix, but she had her _expelliarmus_ ready for him, sending his wand flying into… the tank of brains. Of all the rooms to be stuck in… and of all the places his wand would be lost in…

“ _Incarcerous_!” Bellatrix yelled, binding Harry up in ropes. “I’ll deal with you later… itty bitty baby Potter,” she hissed. She had a knife in her hand, suddenly. She held the tip of it to Hermione’s stunned body, running it along her jaw. “Filthy trash. I’ll carve you up so no one will want to look at your stupid face anymore. Maybe they will scream in horror and snatch their children away as you approach. Maybe… I will slash your ankles so you will only be able to crawl.”

“Leave her alone!” Harry yelled. He struggled with the ropes in the futile hope they would loosen.

Suddenly, Bellatrix yelled, dropping Hermione, snatching back her hand and nursing it with her other. She stared uncomprehendingly at Hermione as she examined her hand. “What have you done to me, you Mudb—”

Her words were cut off by a vice grip upon her throat as she was lifted half off the ground.

“Keep your filthy hands off my sister, you sadistic trollop,” Draco hissed into her face, crunching his fingers into her throat until Bellatrix could only gurgle. His knuckles were white as his underlying bone as his grip tightened until Bellatrix’s face began to turn blue. He flung Bellatrix into the aquarium with a snarl that was barely human.

Draco had his wand pointed at her as she flew, and he let out a low growling, “ _Reducto!_ ”

At first, Harry thought that Draco had missed, and perhaps, so did Bellatrix. But soon after, almost in slow motion, the green water from the aquarium gushed outward, spilling out over Bellatrix as countless white and silver shimmering brains landed upon her. Tendrils shot out of each one, whipping around her struggling body, and she let out a high pitched scream. Tentacles pulled each brain close to Bellatrix in a twisted version of a hug, and her screams only became louder.

Draco stood; his teeth bared as he watched the sadistic witch writhe and convulse under the attack of the brains. He spun, going to Hermione’s fallen body, and cradled her, he pointed his wand at her.

Harry struggled to get free. “Don’t touch her, Malfoy!” he yelled, and instantly felt like the idiot Malfoy had always accused him of being. Malfoy had just appeared out of nowhere and saved Hermione from being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and he was worried about Draco touching Hermione.

Draco’s head snapped up and glared at Harry with a glare that would have done Snape proud. Harry felt every bit of backbone he had up until that point to face Death Eaters flee into the night.

Draco waved his wand and chanted something lowly, and Hermione’s body stirred.

“Draco?” she murmured. “What happened? Is Harry okay?”

“He’s a little… tied up at the moment,” Draco said softly, barely heard over the moans coming from Bellatrix being brained to death. “But he will survive. The Order has caught the remaining Death Eaters and has already moved them out. Only Bellatrix was left.”

“Is she…?” Hermione started.

“She is… dealt with,” Draco murmured.

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione said, her head went limp against Draco’s chest.

Draco pulled her against him, pulling her face against his shoulder where his scent was strongest. He pressed his face into her hair as his hand soothed the top of her head. Harry recognised the gesture. He had seen it countless times in Viktor and his brothers when they interacted with Hermione. In fact, he realised that he had seen it when his godfather and Professor Lupin had hugged her as well. Draco’s cold grey eyes glared at Harry as he stared at them, daring him to say something.

Harry, wisely, said nothing.

Draco propped Hermione up on the nearby desk. “Rest for a moment. I’ll going to take care of Potter.”

He stood up, his thin frame held the arrogant stance Harry was so used to seeing, but his grey eyes locked with his with something different he couldn’t place. Draco approached him, wand out, and chanted over him, releasing the ropes that were binding him. Harry sat up, rubbing his wrists automatically. “Thanks.”

Draco narrowed his eyes but nodded silently. He walked over to where Bellatrix was now still on the floor, still covered in tentacled brains. His lips pressed together in a familiar sneer. He reached into the now empty tank and pulled out Harry’s wand. He pointed his wand at the brains, which seemed to have released their grip upon their victim now that she was no longer struggling.

He guided all the brains back into the aquarium, magicked the water back into the aquarium, and repaired the glass, leaving the only evidence that there had been a… incident… written all over Bellatrix’s wounded body.

Countless tentacles scored Bellatrix's body. There wasn’t an inch upon her that wasn’t lashed by one of the brain tentacles. The marks spared no inch of skin, covering her face, neck, hands, legs, and apparently places covered by her clothes, as her clothing hung in lashed tatters.

Draco sniffed once, the sound conveying a type of disgust he usually reserved for insulting Mudbloods and Gryffindors. He pointed his wand at the Death Eater, “ _Obliviate_.”

Draco tucked his wand away after a few minutes, turning away from the scene of Bellatrix foaming at the mouth as she lay on the ground paralysed.

Draco approached Harry, who had managed to stand up once more. He extended his wand to him. “I hope I can trust you enough that I do not need to _obliviate_ you over this?” he questioned as though commenting on the weather.

Harry blinked rapidly and then nodded. “You can… trust me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, locking gazes with him in a manner that seemed as though he were evaluating his soul. “Good.”

Malfoy cracked the bones in his neck and walked back over Hermione. “Your friends are waiting for you in the next room, Potter,” he said with his back to him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t keep them waiting longer.”

Harry turned to look where the door Ginny had opened and all his friends other than Hermione had jumped through. He turned back to look at Draco, and discovered Draco was gone.

Hermione was struggling to her feet and wobbled a little, but seemed to regain her footing at last. She retrieved her wand from the floor and sighed. When she looked over at Harry, her gaze was no longer the dark and almost black of focus. Her eyes remained warm and brown. “We need to work on duelling etiquette in the midst of combat, Harry,” she said with a smirk, her brown eyes seemed to twinkle.

Harry blushed, his face gaining a flush of red. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione let out her breath in a soft snort.

A flurry of footsteps was loudly and quickly approaching, and Hermione had her wand pointed at the door in a movement so fast it belied her recent disorientation. Harry followed suit, but not quite as fast. Three Aurors rushed into the room and screeched to a halt as they saw the wand from Hermione and Harry being pointed at them.

“Apprentice Granger,” the one in front said softly. “Sorry for startling you.”

Hermione lowered her wand. “Apologies. Long evening.”

The Aurors waited for Harry to lower his wand before rushing over to deal with Bellatrix. They looked at the unbroken tank and Bellatrix with confusion. “Do I even want to know?” the one Auror asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Know that she deserved it.”

“She has a pulse… barely. Andrew, give me a hand here,” the one Auror said. The pair of them lifted Bellatrix between them and disapparated to what could have been anywhere between the Auror Office and St. Mungo’s.

The remaining Auror nodded to Hermione. “You missed a significant battle in the Main Hall, Apprentice Granger,” the Auror said.

“Do tell, Lukas,” Hermione said. “I believe I had quite the battle right here.”

“Minister Fudge and his cabinet walked in on Albus Dumbledore duelling the Dark Lord around the fountain. It was pretty exciting to behold,” Lukas confessed. “The Dark Lord said that it didn’t matter that people saw him. He got what he came for… then he apparated out. Right in front of Cornelius.”

“I missed the epic reveal?” Hermione pouted.

“Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’,” Lukas said, faking a Texan accent.

Hermione snorted. “Wait, what was You-Know-Who doing sticking around the Main Hall when he had what he wanted? He could have just left.”

“Dumbledore hit him with a custom hex, I think,” Lukas said. “Their entire battle was done in spells and interpretive dance.”

Hermione’s eyes closed and she opened them again, staring Lukas in the face. “Say what?”

Lukas grinned at her like a Cheshire cat.

Hermione extended one finger and poked the Auror on the sternum as she held out a phial she pulled out from her robe. “You. Memory. In this phial, right now, Mister.”

Lukas smirked, pointing his wand at his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered in his Texan drawl as he pulled the silvery wisp of memory out of his head and guided it into the phial. “It’s a good thing you remind me of my daughter, Apprentice Granger,” he said with a chuckle. “No one will question why I can’t say no to you.”

Hermione grinned at him, tucking the memory phial away in her robe. “Thank you kindly, Auror Firegrove.”

Lukas smirked at her. “If anyone asked, you _Imperio’ed_ me.”

Hermione gasped, placing her hand to her throat in mock affront. “Mr. Firegrove. That would unforgivable.”

“Hrm,” the Auror said with a twitch of his lips. “Somehow, I don’t that would save me.”

Hermione widened her eyes at him, and he just grinned back at her.

Harry, who had been silently absorbing the conversation in a state of perpetual shock, finally asked. “Sir, do you know where the others that came with me are? Are they okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Potter, my apologies,” Lukas said with a warm smile. “Your friends are quite safe. Moody rounded them up the moment they found their way into the Death room. Don’t worry, no one died there. It did look like the red-headed lad wanted to walk right into the Veil Gate, but your blond-haired friend, the witch, pulled him away. Good thing too that Gate is a bit of a one-way ticket to the beyond.”

Harry looked at Lukas with a dumbfounded expression.

“Come,” Auror Firegrove said. “I will escort you both to the place Alastor wanted all of us involved types to meet up and debrief. It will help you stay out of the way of the press. Dumbledore has most of the press occupied after that bit of duelling the Dark Lord and all, so we should be able to make it there without being seen. All questions will be answered there.”

Hermione and Harry allowed the Auror to escort them away, and much to their combined relief, they dodged the mass hysteria that was the Wizarding press.

It was many hours later, as Harry’s head hit the pillow of his warm bed at Hogwarts, that his mind remembered something Draco had said earlier that night.

Harry shot up in bed so quickly that he slammed his head against the headboard of his bed and promptly passed out.


	67. Your His WHAT?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes to a revelation that is a bit shocking.

Chapter 67: Your His WHAT?

 

Draco’s eyes fluttered open slowly as he gave a toothy yawn. Hermione’s giant talons were curved around his body, drawing him to her chest as she slept. Her breaths were coming slow and steady, and Draco smiled drowsily. After the adventure at the Ministry of Magic, it was good to have time to relax after a mission completed.

Hermione’s talons twitched her her sleep and she pulled Draco closer, her beak wedged against his body as her nostrils flared. She shifted positions slightly, but her grip on the young wizard did not relent. He was pinned, and he found he didn’t mind at all.

Viktor’s wing was entangled with Hermione’s as per the usual routine, parts of their bodies were always touching after one or the other returned from being away, perhaps their own way of reassuring each other that the other had not vaporised sometime during the night.

After seeing both his aunt and his father as main participants in the latest move against Voldemort, Draco was perfectly content to be cuddled by his gryphon sister. The bonds between them had tested with his Aunt’s attack upon Hermione, and they had been found stronger than whatever blood loyalty rubbish his family had tried to instill upon him since he was a child. Bellatrix was a blood relative, and he found that at that moment he had struck and buried his fangs into her hand and flung her away from his sister’s limp body that the family that had formed the residents of the Lair were stronger than ever.

The rage he had felt coursing through him had been molten and powerful… far more powerful than anything he had been told were righteous reasons for fighting a battle. He was beginning to doubt that any of the reasons his father had told him were good reasons to engage in battle were, save one: protect one’s family. As his arm curled around the round body of a certain sleeping orange flame coloured bird and a gryphon had him in a tight embrace, it didn’t take him long to do the math as to who his “cherished ones” were, as the Durmstrang put it.

The round bird pillow he was using yawned and snuggled into his chest, and Draco pulled Aleksander to him with a content sigh. They had become such a cuddly bunch of misfits, but each night that passed drew the bond between them tighter. They were comrades in arms and family by choice, though it was arguable as to whether any of them had a choice in the matter anymore.

Draco’s mind wandered to Viktor and Hermione, warming that the two of them had found each other against the odds of both being predatory flying animagi but also compatible in mind and spirit. Despite Viktor’s highly honed protectiveness and teasing that he would beat up his brothers if they even “looked at his vitch wrong,” he was exceedingly at ease, trusting that his bond with her was strong and her loyalty to him was true. That was something most entirely human wizards and witches failed at on any given day. Given all of their propensities to end up curled up together by the fire in a large pile of fur, wings, feathers, and scales, it was going to take a very special witch to be able to accept such a thing without being able to truly understand what bound them together… provided he or any of the Sky Brothers were seriously looking, which neither of them were.

Petya had charmed and brought home a “date” on a couple nights to what Hermione had jokingly dubbed the “date room.” Their main living quarters was off limits to none but their inner family, but Hermione had skillfully created some separate living quarters as a decoy on the first floor, which in turn, served as convenient guest quarters for those occasions that required it.

She invited Winky to keep one of the rooms as her own and decorate the others as she wished, giving the happy house-elf plenty to keep herself occupied as she wished to be. Dobby was known to pop in and do a little decorating from time to time as well. As usual, they all left out pieces of comfortable and interesting looking fabric and sewing notions in a basket by the hearth so Winky and her cohorts could make clothes for themselves that did not involve wearing a used and unwashed pillowcase.

Draco smirked. If he ever caught whatever insanity was inspiring Petya to “date,” he knew every member of the pack would take their turns taking the mickey out of him until it ceased to be funny, and that would probably take… months. Part of him wondered, just a little, if there was a witch out there that could be understanding enough to accept him and his seemingly duplicitous personality. Safety of their secrets aside, and that was a big aside, it was asking a lot of someone to accept that a kinder and more understanding Draco Malfoy was also the same Draco Malfoy that insulted Mud-bloods and looked down his nose at people purely due to blood status. Draco shook his head. It was would be safer for all involved not to go seeking for anything deep and meaningful until the business with the Dark Lord was finished. If by some miracle something landed in his lap, fantastic, but he wasn’t going to go chasing hippogriffs in a hurricane.

There was a knock on the door downstairs, and three out of four bird-balls cuddled closer to Draco, as if to say it wasn’t their turn to answer the door. The added warmth of them against his body made him more drowsy, but the knocking came again. Multiple bird feet pushed an earthy coloured bird out of the sleeping pile.

The brown coloured ball of feathers blinked and yawned, his head coming out from under his wing as his tail unfurled sleepily from his body. He gave a sleepy chirp.

The knocking continued.

Valko, seemingly realising that he had been volunteered by his bird brothers, bird-walked to the perch by the window and fluttered onto it, looking out of the one way glass to see who was trying to knock their knuckles into a pulp at their storefront door.

“It’s Potter,” Valko said sleepily as he turned into his human self. “Does boy not have clock? It’s not even seven in morning.”

Valko trundled down the stairs blearily, closing the warded sliding door behind him just in case Harry got to curious as to what was upstairs.

Draco had to admit, Valko did half awake what he had to work hard to remember to do fully awake.

Just as his eyes were starting to close again, Draco heard a chain of loud Bulgarian words coming from downstairs and groaned.

Three bird heads popped out of their feathers and seemed to mutter in highly colourful bird vernacular. Hermione’s nearest eye opened next to Draco’s head, a soft eagle squeak that sounded strangely like a curse came from her beak. Viktor’s head rose and set over Hermione’s withers, his nostrils flared and snorted as he gave a large canine yawn.

“Up, daughter,” Severus grunted from the pile as he rolled into a sitting position, “before Potter tries to come up here looking for answers.” The Potion Master had three different feathers from three different donors in his hair. He yawned fitfully, obviously not amused to be woken early on an off day.

Hermione stood, shaking herself off from beak to tail tip. She leaned into Severus and then Viktor, clamped her beak over Draco’s shoulder playfully, and then padded to the door, changing into her human form with a smoothness that belied her groggy state of being. She shut the door and padded down the stairs with nothing but her chemise on.

Draco smirked. He’d tease her about that later.

A few minutes later, Hermione’s authoritative voice reached the upstairs loud and clear, “Harry James Potter, you will allow me to partake of my morning tea and get breakfast into my stomach before your bombard me with your barrage of questioning!”

Suddenly Lazar was in human form with Aleksander next to him.

“Getting sister tea, before she blow up store,” Lazar said, moving to the door.

“Getting sister breakfast, before she murder childhood friend,” Aleksander said, following after Lazar.

“Guess that means I get to open store today,” Petya muttered, pulling himself off the comfortable sleeping cushion. He shuffled out the door and and down the stairs.

Severus scowled down at Draco, causing him to widen his eyes in preemptive guilt. “I blame you for this, Draco.”

Draco tried for innocence, but the dial landed on sheepish.

Severus nudged him with his foot. “You caused Potters little epiphany. Now go keep your sister from killing him.”

Draco slumped and nodded. He stood up and hung his head, pressing it into Snape’s side.

Severus let out his breath slowly, his hand gently alighting on Draco’s head. “You did good, yesterday, Draco. We knew eventually Potter would have to know. Better now than later when he thinks we are both bona fide Death Eaters.”

Draco grunted, slamming his head into Severus’ side a few times.

Severus snorted, soothing Draco’s hair gently. “Shoo.”

Draco squared his shoulders and walked down the stairs to join the others.

Severus picked up his waistcoat from the nearby chair and put it on, slowly doing up the buttons up the front. He had just gotten to the buttons on his sleeves when he heard Draco’s exasperated voice ring out from below him.

“I bloody well live here, Potter, what’s your excuse for being here at the arse crack of dawn?”

Severus sighed. Not the most Slytherin or tactful way to start the day, he supposed. Everyone was entitled to an off day.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Bellatrix Lestrange, Confirmed Death Eater, Left Catatonic After Battle At the Department of Mysteries!

Some of you may remember the tale of Bellatrix Lestrange, wife of Rodolphus Lestrange. She had been imprisoned after serving as a loyal Death Eater to the Dark Lord during the First Wizarding War. Her escape from Azkaban earlier this year with her husband and a number of other imprisoned Death Eaters, was first blamed on Sirius Black.

Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who seemed to have forgotten at the time that Sirius Black had been cleared of all charges to which he had been initially imprisoned thanks to the shady manipulations of a certain Peter Pettigrew, blamed the escape on Black due to his blood relationship with Madam Lestrange. However, all the stories on how said Death Eaters escaped Azkaban came to a stunning finish on the confirmed sighting of the Dark Lord duelling Albus Dumbledore in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. (Please turn to page 7 for more on the epic magical duel that occurred in the Ministry’s atrium.)

The Dark Lord had apparently lured a young group of students into the Department of Mysteries to fetch an object for them by leading them to believe that Sirius Black was being tortured for his information. The ruse, however, was actually a cover for the obtaining of a single prophecy from the Halls of Prophecy, which has been, much to our regret, lost in the ensuing battle.

Bellatrix, who apparently led a significant contingent of Death Eaters into battle against the fleeing students, whose names are being withheld for their protection, was engaged in an epic duel while her Lord was engaged in his own fight in the Atrium. Her fate, however, did not fare well, as she was found barely alive in the Room of Dangerous Minds, also known as the “Brain Room,” in the Department of Mysteries. She had, apparently, been too close to the aquarium where many of the highly dangerous preserved brains are kept. The brains, which are notorious for attacking anyone and anything that get to close to them, had reduced Lestrange into a paralysed stupid.

Healers from St. Mungo’s reported that there was nothing else they could do for her. They managed to barely halt a virulent venom that was in her blood stream, but the damage from it and the attacking brains was too much, reducing Lestrange into a catatonic state.

“She’s trapped in her own mind, I fear,” Healer Damascus said. “Worse still, the parts of her brain that allowed her to channel and work with magic have been completely damaged. She’ll probably never know magic again.”

“This is why we kept the brains isolated in the Room of Dangerous Minds,” Mason Greenbury said after we asked why such things were being kept at all. “We haven’t had an incident at all until last night, and it was due to someone entering the room unauthorised and untrained. We keep dangerous things under lock down to protect the public, but we don’t expect people to break in and start battling it out inside our containment areas!”

When we asked Healer Damascus for the chances of Lestrange being able to recover, he said, “Thoughts leave deep scars, and those scars are permanently lashed across every inch of her body, including her brain. It was a miracle that we managed to beg a rare antivenin potion off the only local Potion Master in the area to save her life.”

There has been some outcry from the public as to why she was saved at all, considering her history and confirmed crime of subjecting Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom to the Cruciatus curse during the First Wizarding War amongst countless other sadistic crimes against the Wizarding populous.

“We must attempt to heal all who come within our walls,” Healer Damascus defended his actions. “Even if we do not approve of who comes. Even if Madam Lestranges fate is to dwell within Azkaban once more, we cannot be her executioner through failure to act due to personal prejudice. We must leave her fate to the Wizengamot.”

Bellatrix, however, will probably not be competent to stand trial with the Wizengamot any time soon, if ever. As of the writing of this article, the Dark witch is permanently admitted into the Catatonic Ward of St. Mungo’s where she serves out her sentence trapped within her own tortured mind in a body that neither responds to her command nor feels the currents of magic.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“How long, Hermione?” demanded Harry as he stabbed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. “How long have been in cahoots with Malfoy right under our noses?”

Hermione froze in the middle of attempting to eat her morning omelet. “Cahoots? Seriously, Harry?”

“It’s a little hard to believe that the one person who has gone all out to make our lives miserable is suddenly not supposed to be a horrible excuse for a human being, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Hello?” Draco said, waving his fork as he dragged a pancake off the stack. “Right here, you know. And thank you for calling me a horrible excuse for a human being.”

“As I’ve told you multiple times before, Harry Potter,” Hermione said with her brows furrowed. “I’ve wanted to tell you a lot of things, but I couldn’t.”

“But this…?” Harry said. “Why couldn’t you have given us a sign before? Think of all the time we wasted just…”

“Right,” Draco said, “and then the knowledge of me being friends with a Muggle-born witch gets out to Slytherin and their Death Eater families or it gets back to my father, which as you know, is a wonderful example of Muggle-born tolerance.”

“But…” Harry protested, trying to find something to hold on to be rightfully angry.

“Tink of vhat get back to Dark Lord, Harry,” Viktor said as he poured Hermione some juice and passed it to her. “Before you know occlumency, all tings in head vulnerable. Secrets not safe. No matter if you promise to keep them.”

Harry slumped his shoulders and sighed. “You have to admit this is not easy to digest, and really, how long have you two been… close?”

Draco snorted, stabbing another pancake.

“Close?” Hermione chuckled. “Second year was a little rough.”

“Rough,” Draco snickered. “Right. We hated each other’s faces most of that year.”

“It wasn’t until the end of that year, really… when…” Hermione began.

“Right,” Draco said with a nod. “Extenuating circumstances.”

“Exactly,” Hermione answered with a nod of her head. The end of their second year had been when Hermione and Draco had bonded over the injured body of Severus after he had come back from one of Dumbledore’s “tasks.” They weren’t about to go into that part with Harry just yet.

Harry rubbed his head. “Can you stop talking in code?”

“What?” Hermione lifted her head from the waffle she was eating.

“What code?” Draco said at the same time.

Harry took a long swig of his juice. “So is there anything else? Can you actually turn into a dragon or something, Malfoy?”

Draco slid his eyes slowly over to peer at Harry. “I cannot turn into a dragon. I can swear on that.”

“Hermione,” Harry said. “What about that time you punched Malfoy in the face?”

“That hurt, actually,” Draco said, shaking his fork at Hermione.

“I apologised right after I did it!” Hermione protested.

“Hrmph,” Draco said, dumping blueberries onto his pancake.

“And the time Malfoy gave you beaver and sabre teeth!” recalled Harry.

Draco blushed a little at that. “I wasn’t aiming for her.”

“And Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry added. “Are they…”

Hermione shook her head. “They are not, and they cannot know.”

Harry frowned. “What about Ron? Ginny? It’s not like they have this connection to V… him.”

Hermione shook her head. “Since when has Ron or Ginny ever been able to keep a secret, Harry? I’m not even sure occlumency would help them. Ginny couldn’t even keep it secret that I was visiting Viktor on weekends.”

Harry slumped. He really wanted to be able to talk to Ron about it. Ron would bust to pieces… and probably start ranting across the entire Common Room. Okay, so, Hermione had a point. “How do you keep something like this secret?” He was itching to tell someone as it was, even knowing Ron and Ginny were horrible examples of secret keeping.

Hermione, perhaps sensing Harry’s imminent desire to spill his guts to Ron, met his eyes. Her eyes were dark. “Think of those who will die the moment such secrets are not kept.”

Viktor reached out and touched Hermione’s hand. “Tink of destruction one secret could cause if revealed to wrong person. When ve were at Durmstrang, only people you trusted were your comrades, because you knew if you ever betrayed your comrades, they would make sure you never did it again.”

“Da, brother,” Lazar said, as he tore into a sausage link. “You only had to smash idiot’s face once before we knew you meant business.”

“Dat was different,” Viktor said with a glare. “Boy was impostor. He almost got Aleksander killed.”

“Saved my life, Viktor,” Aleksander said as he chewed on a piece of bacon. “Proved you not only good leader but have strength to back up threat. You protect what is yours.”

Nods of agreement filtered down the table.

Harry took a moment to absorb the strength of the loyalty Viktor inspired. He was not a man that manipulated his people. He inspired and he protected. What may have started as an act of one student protecting another had become something intrinsic to his nature. Whatever it was that inspired such loyalty in his comrades, they were apparently content with it.

The talk of secrets made Harry remember the one secret that would have protected his parents. If Wormtail hadn’t run to Voldemort and told him about where his parents were hiding away with him… so much would have been different. Suddenly the desire to share Hermione’s secret brother was dampened. He of all people should realise the gravity of keeping a secret, and part of him wondered why he hadn’t come to terms with that particular truth sooner.

Harry’s eyes went to the Prophet, which was sitting in the middle of the breakfast table. “Was she always…”

“Completely mental?” Draco finished with a smirk. “She was in Azkaban for most of my childhood. Mother always told me not to speak of her illy, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out she wasn’t right in the head… even for a Pure-blood supporter. I’m sure you’d get better stories from your godfather for her state of mind before the first war. Better stories than my mother would ever tell, anyway. Mother is always worried about how things makes us appear, even unto ourselves.”

Harry seemed thoughtful. “That seems like a very guarded way to live…Draco,” Harry attempted to wrap his mouth around Draco’s actual name, as if it was painful even to consider.

Draco smirked at him. “I saw more of my godfather than ever I saw of my aunt,” Draco said softly. “And to him I am, unquestionably closer.”

Harry suppressed a shudder. He tried to replace Sirius with Snape in his head as his godfather and ended up with a mental image of him sitting knee deep in potion ingredients with a dour looking man standing over him. It wasn’t pleasant. His thoughts came screeching to an undignified halt. “Wait… If you’re Hermione’s brother…. And Snape is your godfather… that makes Snape like… your dad, Hermione.” He looked at Hermione with a look of absolute horror.

“How horrific for you, Potter,” Snape’s voice rumbled from the stairwell, causing Harry to shrink in size at the breakfast table. “I trust the revelation isn’t giving you a coronary?”

Everyone at the breakfast table was smirking except Harry, who was trying to bury himself under the tablecloth in his horror and mortification.

Severus glided down the stairs on silent footsteps, “Tell me, ‘daughter,’” he greeted Hermione with a smirk, emphasising the word daughter just enough to make Harry cringe a little deeper under the table, “have you devoured all of the sausage and waffles, or did you leave some for your poor hungry ‘father?’”

Hermione grinned at Severus as she uncovered a plate of waffles, eggs, and sausage she had thrown a stasis charm over. “I saved some just for you, ‘dad,’” Hermione answered with mad twinkling in her eyes.

Draco was casting his gaze upward to the ceiling, trying not to burst with laughter.

Severus sat down next to Hermione and stabbed his eggs with his fork noisily, giving his mischievous daughter a smirk of his lips.

“’Dere now,” Valko said, setting out some toasted crumpets and jam. “We all big happy family now that our Father and Master here.”

The table took a moment of respectful silence to the poor black-haired wizard that was groaning under the table.

Lazar peered over the table. “Too much at once?”

Aleksander smeared a crumpet with butter and jam and put in on Harry’s plate. “Too much shock for one day. Recommend lighter conversation, like teasing Petya over forgetting to ward guest room when company over.”

Petya turned red, which was quite an accomplishment considering his darker complexion. He set himself to the task of drinking his coffee.

“To family,” Viktor said, raising his glass.

A muffled triple bark was heard from under the table as a certain Grecian dog set about slurping Harry’s face under the table.

“And dog,” Lazar chuckled.

“To family and dog,” they said in return, raising their glasses.

There was the sound of sputtering under the table as Cerberus proceeded to lick Harry’s hiding face from his under the table vantage point.

Severus surreptitiously handed one of Cerberus’ heads a slice of bacon. “Good dog,” he signalled with his hand.

Cerberus licked his hand with one head as the other two mercilessly kept at Harry’s face, his tail wagging furiously.

That should teach Potter to come barging in to the Aerie before breakfast uninvited.

Harry’s sputtered as he tried to remain under the table and assaulted by Cerberus seemed to confirm that everything was working out just fine.

Public breakfast embarrassment of black-haired Potter boy? Ten points to Slytherin.


	68. The Stars and Planets Align

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The centaurs help with their own prophecy.  
> Harry is introduced to the Pack.

**Chapter 68: The Stars and Planets Align**

 

“I have lived within this forest for moons uncounted,” Magorian said softly. “Never in my life did I know we had such a thing hidden within our own territory.”

Viktor smiled as he watched a small herd of young centaurs leap into the hidden hot springs, sending droplets of water in all directions.

“The pathway hidden by rubble… growth,” Viktor said with a smile. “Had I not found others in my homeland, would not so easily found this one.”

“This is a gift beyond measure, Viktor,” Magorian said, tossing his head as one of the foals ran under him to dive into the springs.

“All ve did was clear way for you,” Viktor said as he sidestepped a splash of water as Puddles did what he did best.

“This is the sort of treasure that attracts human attention,” Bane said as he clambered out of the hot springs and shook off his coat as he stretched. “I am amazed it has not been pillaged before or used as some reason to drive us from our territories long before this.”

One of the smaller colts was trailing after him, grooming his back with his hands and shadowing him.

“Perhaps, it is treasure meant for you,” Lazar said as he made a slight incline in the paths leading into the pools so the Centaur would not have problems walking in and out of the vast pools.

“Ve just help you find it,” Valko said in agreement.

“And we will help you keep it safe from prying eyes,” Hermione said as she came up beside them. Trefoil was clinging to her like the burr of her namesake, grooming Hermione’s hair with her hands and pressing close to her as she walked. Hermione smiled at her, gently rubbing Trefoil on the withers and back where she knew the young filly would appreciate the attention.

Magorian watched as some of the elder centaurs ease themselves into the heated spring water and relax, watching over the playing youth, occasionally stopping the exuberant colts and fillies from going overboard. His smile crept across his face. “I find myself doing a lot of something I had thought rare, but the Owl Master has proven us wrong, yet again. And again… we find ourselves glad of it.”

“Oh?” Snape grunted as he avoided a splash of water from the nearby pool with a lifted critical eyebrow. Three young centaurs looked at him sheepishly from the hot springs. “What is it you are doing that concerns you?”

“Oh, it does not concern me, Owl Master,” Magorian said. “I simply find myself smiling more often, and I do not find events like today’s unexpected visit distasteful. It was not so long ago that any visitor, ally or not, so close to our young and home camp would make any of us greatly nervous.”

Severus inclined his head and then nodded after a while. “There are things that have happened within the last few years I never thought to see in my life, Magorian,” he said thoughtfully, “let alone share them with anyone.”

“The planets align for you strongly with the additions to your family group within the last few years,” Firenze said. His hide was damp from a recent immersion in the springs. “It is good to see. You have walked alone far longer than we could.”

Bane grunted. “The centaur are not a race prone to facing life without the herd. “The very thought of it… is maddening.”

“It is why our most harsh punishment is to condemn an offender to life outside the herd,” Magorian said. “No matter how righteous one’s reasons, a centaur without those of their own kind to share life will often give up on life… or live in some shadow of it.”

Firenze shuddered. Something flickered across his eyes that said that there was a time, not so long ago perhaps, that the most extreme punishment had been considered for one of their number. “It is good that our relations have done nothing but strengthen, my friends. The stars and planets used to move with uncertainty, align rarely, and taunt us with too much change and not enough reason. Our paths seem more clear, and it allows us to see the threads around us more clearly as well.”

Bane nodded. “I believe we have seen something important moving amongst the stars. Something vital.”

“Confirmed thrice,” Magorian said. “On three consecutive nights, to insure we were not mistaken.”

Severus nodded grimly. “I appreciate your care in being sure.”

Firenze shook his mane and hair. “We had to be. To give you false leads without at least attempting a repeated confirmation would be shameful. I have written what we have seen on this scroll for you, Owl Master, but I would tell you verbally while you are all able to hear it together.”

The group of animagi nodded in response, allowing Firenze to lead them out of the hidden hot springs and out into the night where the skies were able to be seen.

Trefoil petted Hermione sadly on the back before she left, but Hermione smiled at her, giving her a warm embrace and encouraging her to rejoin her herd mates that were soaking in the springs. Chara smiled and nodded to Hermione as she left, smirking somewhat as her daughter pounced on Puddles and caused the colt to startle, sending water splashing in all directions.

Firenze led them to a clearing where the centaur had kept clear of seedlings and saplings in order to have a place to view the skies without obstruction. Standing stones had been erected in key places to indicate the cardinal directions.

The clearing was quite dark, save for the light that came down from the moon and stars themselves. The Milky Way spread across the horizon like the stroke of some ancient celestial paintbrush.

“The planets dance along their path around their suns,” Firenze said with a formal tone, “and the stars whisper to us the paths towards the future where we are but actors on the stage.” Firenze cast his gaze upward and his forelegs stomped on the ground, shifting his weight as though gathering his thoughts went in synchronisation with the action.

“There are seven stars that shine the brightest in your present and your future,” Firenze began. “There are two groups. One of four, and the other three. Out of the group of four, one is dim. The star is in the constellation of the scholar who is writing on his desk. The star that is dim is where the book lays upon the desk.

“The second star of note is there,” he pointed to the skies above. “The constellation is the pyramid ring. The star that drew our attention was there—the place where the ring’s stone would be set.

“The third star sits in the centre of the constellation called the pendant. It lies within the grasp of the Sorcerer, above the constellation of the celestial serpent.

“The fourth star is the eye of the great celestial serpent whom the warrior constellation is chasing. The she-serpent is the bane of the world, seeking the end in all things. The warrior constellation chases the serpent across the skies, sword poised to strike down the serpent.

“The fifth star in in the handle of the constellation named the Chalice, whose contents are said to hold the reward of hard work. The Chalice lies within the vault of stars, said to lay horded and hidden from lowly mortal hands.

“The sixth star is the jewel of the Empress’ crown, whose middle star is told to represent the ancient gem of knowledge and wisdom. The divine Empress was said to bring the knowledge of fire to those suffering in the dark and cold of Creation. The crown lies within the Hall of the Forgotten, where the ancient Gods and Goddesses cast aside tokens of lost times, wars, and civilisations.

“The seventh star is the constellation of reluctant warrior, who carries a lantern against the primordial dark. It is said that just as the lantern flickers and threatens to go out, the dark encroaches around the warrior, but just as it does, the lantern sparks to life and a bolt of light bursts force from the lantern like lightning splits the heavens.”

Firenze sighed deeply and turned to the small group. “This is what the stars tell us, my friends, my allies. These are what the planets part for us to see.”

Severus looked skyward and closed his eyes after a moment. “Your reading rings true, Firenze,” he said softly. “Perhaps more than I wish to admit.”

Severus opened his eyes as his brows furrowed. “The first you mentioned was the scholar writing in a book. The book may have been the diary that Ms. Weasley found, and Potter subsequently destroyed in the chamber of secrets. The second was a ring, much like the one Hermione and Draco fetched out from the fingers of Mundungus Fletcher, buried in a long forgotten shack. The third you said was the pendant in the grasp of the Sorcerer above the serpent. The locket that Mundungus tried to steal from Black’s Ancestral home had a snake emblazoned on the front. The fourth you said is the she-serpent… and only so many months ago, Hermione allowed us to catch Nagini, the Dark Lord’s viper. If all of these are connected, then there are seven Horcruxes out there. The fifth is some sort of chalice, perhaps hidden away in a vault. The sixth is perhaps a jewel or a crown or perhaps a jewel set upon one, hidden in a place long forgotten. And the seventh involves… a warrior against the Dark, whose only clue is that the warrior is both reluctant and male, who may or may not be carrying a real or figurative lantern.”

“We do like our challenges, Uncle,” Draco said tiredly.

Hermione nodded grimly. “Wait, Master,” she said suddenly. “You said Harry destroyed Tom Riddle’s Diary correct?”

Severus nodded. “Albus had it on his desk shortly after they escaped the Chamber of Secrets. It was quite thoroughly ruined and still had some sort of tooth sticking out of it.”

“I remember that book,” Draco said with furrowed brows. “My father was very protective of it, then one day, he took me to Diagon Alley and he brought the book with him… but he never left with it. He forbid me to speak of it when I tried to ask, and I knew better than to push.”

“We had a meeting over it while Potter was recovering in the Hospital Wing,” Severus recalled. “Minerva was quite disturbed by it. She said that even destroyed, the book remained unnaturally evil… some testament of the mind of a murderer left an imprint upon its pages.”

Hermione rubbed her chin in a gesture that looked very much like her father and Master’s. “What if what we need to destroy the other Horcruxes is what Harry used on the diary? Harry told Ron and I after it was all over that he didn’t have anything to use against the book. All he could think about was doing something to it that would damage it. He took the only thing he had at the time. A basilisk fang…”

“A magical creature of enormous power,” Firenze said. “It’s venom is laced with its very hatred, so it is said.”

“Hatred said to be so strong,” Petya recalled, “that it became venom stronger than any natural thing found on Earth.”

“Stories from our school once said,” Viktor said sombrely, “that wizards from the olden days wished to raise them to use against their enemies, but many died to the bites of the beasts. While they were able to hatch them, they had no way to communicate with them.”

“And the basilisk is like a wild hippogriff,” Aleksander said. “Easy to offend. Only much more fatal. Many arrogant wizards and witches died trying to harness the basilisk.”

“In Bulgaria,” Valko said. “Every family keep chickens, and every family make sure to have roosters. The roosters’ crows kill the basilisk, thus those who wish to keep such a creature would never live near them.”

“Most suspicious in those days,” Lazar said. “Any family that has no rooster, suspected of ill intent.”

“These… Horcruxes you speak of,” Firenze said. “The centaur are not familiar with such things. What is it about them that makes concern dance upon your eyes?”

Severus sighed softly and squared his shoulders. “Horcruxes are a Dark Wizard’s or Witch’s most foul tool to gamble for immortality using their own soul. They split their soul by committing murder, then cast the piece that breaks off into into a receptacle. As long as that receptacle is undamaged, they can return to life.”

“Soul is not meant to be broken,” Viktor said grimly. “Horrible things await one who does such atrocity. What remain of person… less human… less stable.”

Firenze shook his mane. “This is not the kind of magic the centaur are used to sensing around us. Ours is the magic of the natural Earth… the kind that needs no wand or act of violence. To even consider it… it is beyond what my mind wishes to know.

“If your reading of the stars is correct, Firenze,” Severus said grimly. “The Dark Lord has not only created four Horcruxes, one which has been destroyed, three which we have found… three more remain. There are seven total. If there had ever been a sliver of humanity in the man that became the Dark Lord, it has long since shattered and been cast into Abyss. It explains why he has been so unstable in this incarnation, when in the past he was not.”

“Master,” Hermione asked softly. “What was he like… before the First War?”

Severus cracked his neck thoughtfully. “The Dark Lord was always a powerful persuading force. He could convince the most dubious of folk to believe what he told them. His promises were honey, and he gifted those who supported his cause with just the right amount of what they needed to hear. Power… prestige… recognition, perhaps. In the beginning, it was never about killing. It started as putting people in the right places. Knowing things before they would happen. Insuring things would happen. It was only after his followers were well and truly hooked… when they had so much to lose, that the other tasks began. By then, most of those who followed, would follow him unto Hell itself either willingly or under duress. To disobey was not only to face death, but to lose everything they had gained… to be exposed.”

Hermione shuddered. “Was there ever anything human about him?”

Severus shook his head. “I fear that… he was one of those people that was born into darkness. There was always something… off about him, even as a boy.

“Albus once confessed that he had taken Tom in as a boy as penance for some deed that haunted his own past. He admitted, in hindsight, his good deed was perhaps the worst thing he could have done for the boy who would become the Dark Lord. Dumbledore introduced the boy to magic. Real magic… and with it… power.

“And he absorbed as much as he could at every waking moment in a vain attempt to fill the emptiness inside and cool the anger against those who seemingly betrayed him by birthing him into the world. But no act that he does, whether in magic or in murder, fills him up. No amount of life or immortality will heal what he was born without.

“He will forever be empty, angry, and searching. He cannot understand friendship. He cannot fathom love. There is only the user… and the used. Method and practice. Desire and execution… and what he does not inspire in loyalty to his cause, he inspires with fear,” Severus finished with an impassive expression. “And just because he cannot understand such things as this,” Severus said as he placed his hand gently upon Hermione’s head, caressing her hair as he would her feathered crown, “does not make him any less dangerous. He can manipulate all the same.”

Hermione frowned. Both she and Draco pressed into Severus’ side, wedging their heads against him as they had so many times since he had first allowed them into his personal space. It seemed so long ago rather than a handful of years, yet for the three of them, it could have been forever. Both Hermione and Draco sought the feel of their chosen father’s touch, and in many ways, Snape sought theirs to remind himself of the reasons for doing the tasks he was given from his dual Master’s. The days when the only reason Severus Snape drudged away at the tasks he had been given was for the memory of a childhood friend betrayed was gone. While he still held the memory of Lily in a place he never allowed himself to truly forget, he had replaced his reason with two pairs of eyes that never failed to look to him for guidance and reassurance. His godson and Apprentice daughter had become the foundation of his world, and through them, their family had expanded to encompass “the pack” and “the herd,” expanding Snape’s social circle beyond anything his mind could have dreamed of as a younger and more bitter Snape. The exchange was silent, but there was no one present that did not know the significance. The bonds were too strong for the flood of relief that emanated from the trio not to trickle outward to Viktor, his brothers, and even Firenze.

The palomino centaur smiled. He had watched the Dark Wizard that had originally reluctantly followed Dumbledore to the initial centaur parlay and then dutifully kept to the honour of the agreements every year after since Snape became a professor. He had watched him change from a haunted and bitter young man, to a melancholy older professor whose isolation and hated status had been his torturous secret misery, into a focused being that inspired his young charges into the kind of loyalty that if Voldemort had managed to hold it in his grasp over his followers, the war would have been already been lost twice over.

The centaur knew that the Owl Master kept his word. They also knew that he did his best to keep to the agreements Dumbledore had made with the centaur and then seemingly pawned off the responsibility onto the Potion Master. Every year, Severus returned to “renew” their treaty for Dumbledore, but now, it was no secret amongst the centaur to whom the spirit of the agreement was made. Snape had been the binding factor in the treaty to seek peaceful resolution in regards to student or faculty unintentional trespass into the centaur’s ancestral territories. Now, he and his chosen family were as much a part of the herd as the rest of the centaur. They had hunted with them, fought with them, defended them, and bled for them. No more was required to prove ties to the herd than that. Proof was laid bare by the ease in which their foals trusted them, and their dams and sires accepted it with the sort of reciprocated trust Firenze had not seen in many years. It was because of this bond that had formed between them that the herd had no problem sharing their visions and readings of the stars and planets with Severus’ family unit. They had become a part of the herd, and as a part of the herd, they were entitled to know how the planets aligned for or against them. To lose any of them now, would be to lose a member of their own, and the herd who lost members would be left forever diminished. That was something Firenze could not stand to see happen if there was anything he could do to make it otherwise.

“You have given us much to think about, Firenze,” Severus said at last. “You honour us by sharing your reading.”

Firenze shook his head. “It is my honour to help our herd remain strong.”

“You should stay with us tonight, Owl Master,” Magorian’s voice rang into the clearing from the trees. “You and your kin with ours. Sleep amongst the herd and share its magic within yourselves. Allow the stars and planets to settle in your minds before you attempt to make sense of them further.”

Severus turned towards where the dark shape of Magorian emerged from the even darker tree line. He nodded his head with a slight incline of his head.

As they all walked back towards the main camp, the majority of the herd was already gathered together to sleep. There was a gap in the herd that was waiting just for them, the size unmistakably ready to welcome the animagi’s animal forms. A certain three-headed dog was already curled up next to Trefoil and Chara, and one of his heads lifted to peer at them as they walked into the camp, his tail wagging against the ground in greeting.

Hermione and Viktor stretched out onto all fours and settled in together, shifting their bulk to allow the four elemental bird balls to settle between Hermione’s legs. Draco slithered around Hermione’s neck, tucking himself between her layers of warm feathers. Severus settled in his owl form on Hermione’s withers, giving a soft hoot of comfort as his large owl eyes drifted closed.

Severus was almost asleep when Little Vik chirped appealingly and snuggled up next to him, having wriggled out from under Hermione’s neck feathers to share space with him. He turned his head to peer at the little hippogriff and gave an irritated hoot.

Vik chirped adoringly, fluttering his feathers.

With an owlish sigh, he opened up his wing and enfolded the little hippogriff with his large wing and tucked it around Vik. Within moments, he was asleep.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Girl’s lavatory,” Draco said with an arched brow. “No one would ever suspect the gateway to evil to be housed here.”

Hermione shoved Draco on the shoulder. “Hush, you,” she groaned. “I imagine all kinds of horrors in the boy’s lavatory.”

“Lead on then, Potter,” Draco grunted, twirling his hand in the aristocratic manner.

Harry shook his head, still slightly unnerved by the casual and almost cheerful banter between Draco and Hermione. A part of him wondered, had he taken Draco’s offer of friendship on the fateful day he had chosen Ron over the blond-haired soon-to-be Slytherin, how things would have been different. Would he have seen this side of Draco sooner? Or would be have been as clueless to his other side as Crabbe and Goyle? Still, the prospect of having never gotten to be friends with Ron and met his family would have been a big part of his life missing that he didn’t really want. They had filled in a good part of what he had missed with the Dursleys—a true feeling of what a family should have.

Harry put his hand on the nearby faucet and sighed, trying to consciously switch over to Parseltongue and open the Chamber’s hidden entrance. Consciously was the key. He never knew when he was speaking in Parseltongue. It just sort of… happened.

Hermione fidgeted as she stood next to Draco. Her last experiences in this particular place had not ended well. Although she had come to terms with her inner beast, as it were, her first experience being transmogrified into a humanoid cat was probably not the best highlight of her second year at Hogwarts.

Draco, sensing her unease, rubbed her her spine between the shoulder blades with his hand.

Hermione smiled at him. “This is where I became… a cat,” she said softly, explaining her unease.

“In here? The haunted girls lavatory?” Draco said with sympathy.

“She had wondrously big ears and huge baleful eyes,” Myrtle cooed as she floated by, preening herself with her hands. She place her face right up to Hermione’s, mocking her with her own widened eyes. She placed her fingers to her head to make her own version of ears.

Hermione gritted her teeth. Myrtle had always alternated with being uncomfortably self absorbed to being determined to bring discomfort on others for her own amusement. Her death had apparently brought about a certain joy in other people’s suffering, as if she were comparing their misery to her own and finding it justified because she had suffered it when she was alive.

Draco’s lips pursed into a firm line, and his fist tensed.

Hermione placed her hand on his wrist, gently stroking the skin of his wrist to soothe the look of murder on her brother’s face.

“Harry,” Myrtle cooed, switching targets like a change in the wind. “You haven’t been here to visit me in ages. I thought perhaps you had died somewhere else and took up haunting another place.”

Harry flinched and said something to her, but it came out as a bunch of hisses.

Myrtle went wide eyed and zipped off, moaning, as the entrance to the chamber rattled open, exposing the dark pathway below.

Draco and Hermione had their wands out with tips lit to peer into the darkness.

“Is it a full drop?” Draco asked, peering into the darkness.

“It’s a bit of a slide, actually,” Harry said. “A long one.”

Hermione fidgeted. “Wonderful,” she said softly. “Enclosed spaces.”

Draco touched her back gently, rubbing it absently. “You going to be okay?”

Hermione nodded grimly. “I’ve fought a giant snake and been crushed by a giant… what’s a dark tunnel leading to the unknown?”

Harry reached out to touch Hermione awkwardly. It wasn’t like him to be overly demonstrative to Hermione, but, he had begun to see that those that were far close to her than he had ever believed did so often. More than just hugs between friends, Viktor, her Sky Brothers, and Draco all went out of their way to touch and be touched by her and each other. Even Snape, her supposedly reluctant Master, had touched her head before they had left to find the Chamber of Secrets in a gesture that could not be mistaken for anything but reassurance. It was for these reasons that Harry wanted to try and be the kind of friend Hermione needed, just as she had tried hard to be there for him on his terms. Gently, he reached out and touched her shoulder, rubbing it gently.

Hermione gasped suddenly, looking at Harry with surprise, her body stiffening as she tried to piece together what was happening.

At first, Harry thought he had committed a social gaff, and he started to pull away, but Hermione touched his hand and squeezed it gently, her eyes gaining that warmer quality that he saw when she was genuinely happy.

Draco watched Harry with a critical look, but then his lips curved upward in a smile as he ruffled Hermione’s hair as he leaned into her.

Hermione took in a breath. “I guess… here we go!”

Harry nodded and sat on the edge and eased himself down into the sliding tunnel. After about a minute, he called back up. “It’s clear. Come on down!”

Hermione grunted, clenched her teeth, and eased down into the tunnel and allowed it to swallow her in darkness.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Wow,” Draco said, touching one of the many snakes on the door guarding the Chamber of Secrets. “Did…goblins forge this?”

Harry shook his head. “I have no idea. They almost look alive, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, his fingers moving across the finely wrought snakes. The metal was slick and shiny, showing no sign of its true age. “This chamber was supposedly built during the time of the great Salazar Slytherin himself. That would make this door… as ancient as the flagstones of Hogwarts… but it looks like it was built by a modern craftsman. The metal work is…amazing.”

Hermione stared at the carved serpents of the door. “As much as I realise that Salazar did not have the best of intentions when he made this place, I have to admire the detail he put into it.

Harry looked at the snake door with trepidation. “I know the basilisk isn’t alive and waiting for us, but I still feel like this place is watching us.”

Harry stood on front of the door and inhaled deeply a few times. He began to mumble as if to himself, and it gradually changed into a soft hissing sound.

Draco raised his head as Harry spoke, his eyes narrowing. “Do you hear what he says, Ari?” He signalled to her.

Hermione shook her head. “Hissing only.”

“I hear him,” he signalled. “He’s afraid of letting you down.”

Hermione shook her head. “Always worried about the wrong things at wrong time.”

The great door shuddered and began to open as Draco smirked at his sister. “We are teenagers. It is our job to worry about the wrong things at the wrong time.”

“Are you defending Harry, Draco?” Hermione signalled wildly behind Harry’s back.

Draco gave her a warm look and signalled back, “Perhaps.”

Hermione shook her head as the serpent door opened itself for them, exposing the long pathway within.

As they stepped along the pathway, countless serpent heads rose from the surrounding water, their tongues extended as if to taste the air of the intruders. At the end of the path, the great carved relief of a bearded wizard loomed ominously, stone eyes staring at them as if to pass judgment.

“That must be Salazar Slytherin,” Hermione said with a little awe. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”

Draco nodded as Harry led them down the damp walkway. Both he and Hermione looked around the chamber in a combination of fascination and sadness.

“It’s sad that someone as obviously talented as Salazar Slytherin leaves behind a legacy of Dark magic and murder,” Hermione said with a grieving tone. “It would be so fascinating to understand magic as he would have… if it weren’t for that.” She gazed into the face of Salazar Slytherin, her brown eyes had darkened into something unreadable.

Draco touched Hermione on the back, rubbing it gently. “Always the quest for knowledge for you, isn’t it, sis?”

Hermione smiled at him. “I am my father’s daughter, after all,” she said with a wink.

“Both of your parents are doctors, Hermione,” Harry commented, mistakenly thinking she was referring to Mr. Granger. “That probably makes you doubly cursed to seek knowledge wherever you may find it.”

“Triply so,” Hermione said dryly, arching a brow.

Severus’ mental presence strengthened in her mind as her thoughts went to him. The tendrils of his mind brushed against her with the familiar warmth she had come to rely on to be there in both times of stress and peace. She closed her eyes and sent him the grand visual of the relief of Salazar Slytherin surrounded by his snake effigies as well as her conflicted thoughts of both admiration for the man that crafted it and guilt over it knowing what the man had created in order to murder Muggle-born children.

:Do not feel guilt in admiring the accomplishments of great wizards of the past, my daughter,: his mind voice soothed her. :It is something to be admired, even though its true purpose is not. What so many of those who support Wizarding blood purity forget… is that the very first wizards and witches all started the same—born of fallible human beings who one day learnt they were able to be something more.:

Hermione smiled as Severus’ mental presence surrounded her in a mental version of a hug before withdrawing from her mind, and she refocused on the task that lay ahead.

The carcass of the great basilisk that had caused such pain and suffering during their second year lay dead at the foot of Salazar’s head. The hidden doorway, which had probably concealed the giant serpent for its thousand year vigil, was still open.

“It looks just like it was when I first killed it,” Harry said with wonder. “Even its blood is still wet.”

Hermione knelt beside the carcass warily, her hand cast over its head as her eyes narrowed. “There is a powerful preservation spell upon her,” she said with a little awe.

“She?” Harry asked. “How can you even tell?”

Draco pointed to the head. “No red feather,” he answered, recalling the description of the beast from Newt Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Harry shook his head, snorting a little in his realisation that Draco’s public persona was so unlike his real self. Draco’s true personality, he had come to see glimpses of it more often now that his relationship with Hermione had been exposed, was far more learned and knowledgeable than Harry had ever given him credit for. It wasn’t hard to see, after discovering that truth, why Hermione and Draco got along when others weren’t looking. They fussed over the same books, argued over the same topics, obsessed over the same exercises, and complained bitterly over the same tasks that Snape gave them to do. Harry had to work very hard not to snicker as the Potion Master had reached behind his Apprentice and Draco and forced their heads down simultaneously into their research they were doing because they had been snickering at each other instead doing their work. Both Draco and Hermione had taken it much better than Harry and Ron ever had, having refocused on their task almost immediately, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that even they weren’t immune to Snape’s taskmaster habits.

“Draco, Harry,” Hermione said, “Could you pry open the mouth for me, please? And try to keep it open?”

Draco and Harry exchanged glances and tentatively put their hands ever so careful on the basilisk’s jaws on each side and cranked the mouth open.

Surprisingly, the jaws came apart easily, and Harry and Draco did not have to struggle much to keep them apart.

Hermione splayed her hands out, silently engaging her armoured talons, feeling the enchanted goblin armour slide over her hands like a glove. She reached into the basilisk’s mouth and grasped one of the huge venom coated fangs.

The fang made an unnerving stretching sound as she attempted to free it from the periodontal ligament that attached the fang to the bone of the snake’s jaw. Hermione silently thanked her parents for the many books that described the anatomy of teeth and how they connected to the bones of the mouth. Human mouths were different than snakes, she was certain, but the basics would be the same.

Hermione clenched her talons in, using the longer and sharper tip to wedge in beside the fang and the gum tissue and severed the ligaments with surgical precision, and a gush of pale sickly green venom oozed over both of her taloned hands. Hermione grimaced, forcing herself to ignore the sensation, forcing her talons in deeper into the socket of the fang. With a disturbing pop, the fang was finally free, and she pulled it out.

Draco and Harry eased the snake’s jaws back down and let go. Draco pulled out an elongated container from his robes and held it out. Hermione gently placed the fang into the container, careful not to accidentally do anything that might bump the fang into any of them.

Draco quickly covered the container, wrapped it to bind it, and stashed it in his robes. He pulled out a second and third container and set them down. “We should probably have more than one. I would rather not have to come back down here and do this again, and it will be infinitely harder to do once classes are back in session.”

Hermione nodded grimly as the venom dripped from her silver talons.

“That’s odd,” Draco said, staring at her Goblin-forged armour. It’s almost like they are absorbing the venom as well. Do you think it’s to protect you from the effects?”

Hermione splayed her talons outward and looked at them. Venom was still dripping from them, but equal parts seemed to slide across the surface of the metal and disappear as though the metal were porous and absorbent. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “There are many enchantments upon them, but I have lost count of how many and what kind.”

“Do you feel okay? Nothing strange?” Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I feel fine.”

Draco shrugged. “Well let’s get another,” he said.

Draco and Harry pried open the mouth again carefully, and Hermione dove in again, wiggling her talons around another fang to free it from the bone of the snake’s jaw. Each fang was drenched in the almost viscous venom, and Hermione very carefully placed it in the containers Draco had brought.

“Why do you have… armour on your hands, Hermione?” Harry asked as he strained to keep the jaw open and still.

“I am…” Hermione started to say, stopping as she worked her claws carefully around the fang socket, “frequently in situations requiring more than simply wand work.” The fang came out with a ripping sound, and Hermione curled her lip in a grimace as both venom and blood bathed her talons now. She placed the dripping fang into the container before going in for another. “My Master wishes me to be prepared… for anything, especially when Professor Moody is training me in specialised hand-to-hand-combat.”

Harry grunted as the snake’s jaws were getting a little heavy to hold still. “It scares me that Professor Moody is training you to use your hands over spells.”

“Not over spells,” Hermione said, wiggling the final fang she was going for. “In case I am unable to cast them.”

Harry made his own grimace and Hermione yanked the last fang free of the snake’s mouth, placing it in the protective container. “You know, during the career counselling meeting we had to go to, Professor McGonagall said if I was going to go for being an Auror, I would have to do well in many subjects. She didn’t mention anything about hand-to-hand combat.”

Draco smirked as they let the snake’s jaws close a final time. “Aurors are probably trained in many things we don’t get to hear about at our age, Potter,” he said calmly. “I’m sure, if you are determined to be one, you’ll eventually have to train in all the things we’re not supposed to know about.”

Harry furrowed his brows as he mulled it over. “You’re probably right.”

Draco had all of the fangs bundled carefully and stashed away. Hermione’s armour had disappeared from sight, leaving her hands looking pristine with no signs of blood or venom. “Time to deliver these to my Uncle so he can get one to Moody. We can only hope that whatever allowed you to destroy that diary will allow us to put an end to the other Horcruxes as well.

Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Malfoy,” Harry said. “Why do you call Snape your Uncle when he’s your godfather?”

Draco smirked as he helped pull Hermione to her feet. “I was raised to call him Uncle long before I was told he was my godfather. I suppose it is habit more than anything.”

“It’s just,” Harry tried to explain. “You seem very close, and… I guess my own experiences with my Uncle Vernon were far from close. I don’t think of an Uncle being… anything as close as a godfather.”

Draco tilted his head to the side slightly, pondering perhaps the difference in their definitions of kinship terms and family roles. “Severus has been close to our family for as long as I’ve been alive,” he said at last. “He has always been protective of me.”

Harry nodded with a sigh. “Let’s get out of this place. It makes me think too much.”

Hermione shook her head at Harry, giving him a playful shove.

Harry grinned back at her and they all set off together for the long climb back up out of the tunnels that had led them to the Chamber of Secrets.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione’s eyes glazed over as Viktor’s hand massaged her scalp, and she fell face first into his lap with a purr.

“Key to get her to stick around long enough to listen to you,” Viktor said to Harry with a grin, “is rub head like this.”

Harry looked on with fascination as Hermione, the normal go-go-go and dignified Hermione, lay sprawled undignified over Viktor’s lap, arms flailed outward like a Kneazle in a sunbeam.

Draco smirked and reached over, massaging her shoulders. “And if you really want to make sure she sticks around, rub her shoulders at the same time. Draco grinned as Hermione gave a loud purring sound from her throat, her hands and feet twitched periodically as her body went into relaxation overload.

“Looks like she’s spent too much time with Professor McGonagall in cat form,” Harry said with a chuckle. “Have you become a cat animagus, Hermione?”

“I am…not…a…cat,” Hermione said in a half purrs, rubbing against Viktor’s hands as if to prove otherwise.

“Right, you won’t mind then if I bring out a saucer of milk to be sure,” Harry snickered.

Hermione may have wanted to argue her point with Harry at that moment, but whatever inspiration she may have had flew right out the window when Severus’ hand reached over from where he was reading a scroll, slid to the back of Hermione’s neck, and rubbed, causing Hermione to slump limply in place with only her foot twitching slightly.

“No… fair…” she murmured half-heartedly from her flopped position in Viktor’s lap. Little Vik popped out form her hair and rubbed up against her chin, trotting across her shoulders and head-bumping into her opposite side. Hermione mumbled something in Bulgarian.

“Well that’s not fair,” Harry said, pouting. I didn’t understand that.

“I understood perfectly well,” Viktor said tilting his head.

Harry looked at Viktor with an exasperated face.

Viktor snickered. “She say not fair Master know vhere secret weaknesses are.”

“That is my job,” Severus said, not even bothering to look up from the scroll he was continuing to read.

“To exploit her weaknesses?” Harry asked.

“Obviously,” Severus replied dryly. He set down the scroll he had been perusing for the last hour and eyed Harry. His dark eyes met Harry’s green ones with a searching look. “How are your nightmares, Potter?”

Harry flinched at the mention of the nightmares, but it wasn’t due to the nightmares truly, nor was it because Snape seemed to have as hard a time calling him by his first name as Harry had putting Professor before Snape’s name. He flinched because when Snape looked into his eyes, it was though he were evaluating him in some cosmic manner. “I haven’t had any since I purposely waited for the vision to come, Sir. And the shields seem to stay up once I erect them, unless I purposely pull them down.

Severus narrowed his eyes, but seemed satisfied by his answer. “Your life and those of your friends depend on your occlumency, Mr. Potter. You would do well to remember that.” The Potion Master’s voice was not the cold one that Harry was accustomed to hearing. “It is good, however, that you have kept your shields until you purposely dismiss them. It will make things easier in the future.”

A flare in the fireplace caught Snape’s attention.

“Ah, Severus,” Remus’ head popped through the floo. “It’s that time again. Clear for me to come over?”

Snape waved his hand towards the fireplace, lifting his wards. “Come through, Lupin. There is a three headed monster waiting to drool on you.”

There was a snickering sound from the floo before Remus stepped through the fireplace with a smirk on his face. As promised, Cerberus bounded over from where he had been resting peacefully and bounced up and down on Remus’ leg, tail wagging and multiple heads drooling. Remus straightened his posture, looking stern, and Cerberus sat down, staring up at him hopefully.

Lupin grinned, relaxing, and Cerberus licked his hand happily.

Harry looked at Remus Lupin closely for the first time in months and realised that the man looked good. Healthy… almost radiant in good health. He was startlingly different from the pale, sickly looking man that had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. If it were possible, Lupin looked even more warm and kindly than before.

Remus looked at Harry appraisingly, nostrils flaring. “A little late for you to be out and about Hogwarts, isn’t it, Harry?”

Harry flushed. In his excitement after helping Hermione and Draco revisit the Chamber of Secrets, he had completely forgotten it was, technically, a school night.

Severus slid a panel open on his bookshelf and revealed a cauldron kept in stasis. He ladled in a foul looking mixture into a goblet and handed it to Remus before sliding the panel back.

Hermione’s nostrils flared and she eyed the werewolf suspiciously. “How’s Tonks, Remus?”

Lupin practically dropped the goblet he was holding, but Severus was faster, grabbing for the cup before Lupin could spill it all over himself.

Severus shot a glare at his daughter for her timing. Hermione bit her bottom lip but made a face at him that was all about “well, smell him yourself!”

Hermione make a sniffing sound, inclining her head towards Lupin with widened eyes.

Severus eyed Remus with narrowed eyes.

Viktor and Draco raised their heads, pausing in their rubbing of Hermione’s back. Viktor’s nostrils flared and Draco’s lips parted, and for a moment Harry could have sworn his flicked his tongue out as if to taste the air.

Remus guzzled the goblet of potion in a hurry, making a horrible face. “Remind me to get some more of that tongue numbing potion from you, Hermione. I forgot how horrible this stuff tastes.”

Hermione smirked. “Perhaps I will brew you more, if you tell me how your evening went.”

Harry watched Lupin turn a rather bright shade of crimson.

“You’ve become a Slytherin in all but name,” Remus complained. He glared at Snape.

Severus splayed his fingers out. “Do not blame me, Lupin, for her natural born tendencies.”

“Natural born, my tail,” Lupin countered. “You and Draco have corrupted her.”

“Since when is encouraging someone to use their brain corruption, Remus?” Severus said, arching a brow at the werewolf.

The werewolf glared at Snape. “Since it was you that did it!”

“And I suppose if Trelawney did it, it would somehow be better?” Severus countered.

Remus blinked at Severus for a pregnant pause and then busted up laughing. “I yield. You win, Severus. She might as well be born to your name. Apprentice bond or no, she is bound to your very Slytherin soul.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Snape’s reaction was not what he expected. He expected the Potion Master to swear to anything but closeness with his Apprentice since it was Dumbledore that “forced” him into making the bond, but Snape’s lips quirked upward, and his dark eyes met Lupin’s without malice. They were bantering, and Snape was participating. It was… surreal.

Hermione was looking at Remus expectantly, her warm brown eyes were alight with amusement. She had the look she had when she had found a really interesting passage in a book she was reading. It screamed of tenacity in the face of knowledge.

“Yes! I had a wonderful evening, thank you!” Remus blurted out at last. “It was a fantastic date, I ate chicken tikka masala, it was fabulous, and I escorted her home, kissed her on the forehead, and said goodnight like a perfect gentleman!”

Silence.

“Was that so hard?” Draco asked with a quirk of his mouth.

Lupin slumped his shoulders. “Now that you have all sufficiently neutered me, could we please retire before I turn in the middle of Severus’ drawing room?”

“I suppose,” Severus said, waving the werewolf towards the Lair.

Hermione yawned and stood up, pulling a vial out of her robes and extended it to Harry. “Two choices, Harry. You can goto bed and I’ll see you tomorrow morning, or you drink this and stay with us tonight. One will probably shake you up a bit. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You forget third option,” Viktor said. “He can stay, not drink potion, and become werewolf.”

Harry’s eyes bugged out and he stared at the potion.

“It lasts for about ten hours, Harry,” Hermione said. “You’ll be safe from Remus if you drink it, but you won’t be able to leave here until the potion wears off.”

“What happens,” Harry said skeptically, “if I drink it?”

Hermione tilted her head and looked at Snape. “Master, did I put fish scales, bear claws, hyena fang, or cat whisker into this particular potion? Maybe it was eye of newt. Bother.”

“You’re asking me what you put into your potion, my Apprentice?” Severus said, arching a brow.

“I seem to have forgotten to label this bottle,” Hermione answered innocently.

Harry wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with the look of mischief on Hermione’s face, nor the answering smirk her Master was giving her.

Hermione wasn’t the type to “forget” to label anything. Snape was not the type to “allow” his apprentice to “forget” anything either. He knew this all too well… even if his other solid truths were not not standing on such solid ground lately.

“This will allow me to stay with Professor Lupin while he’s… changed?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

“And you’ve already taken it?” Harry enquired nervously.

Hermione smirked. “Let’s put it this way, Harry. We’re already prepared to walk into the next room. You’re the only one who is not.”

Harry looked at the vial and bit his lip. He’d always been curious as to what the werewolf did during the full moon. Sirius had talked about keeping him company on many a full moon as a dog, and it did make Harry curious… curious enough to maybe drink this unknown potion Hermione was offering.

Hermione let out her breath and closed her hand over the vial, seeing that Harry was too conflicted to take the offering. “Guess, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Harry,” she said with smile.

“I’ll take it!” Harry said suddenly.

Hermione turned to him with an amused expression, placing the vial into his palm. He uncorked the vial and drank it down before he lost his nerve.

Harry felt a little dizzy as he placed the vial on the nearby table. The floor was getting closer, Hermione and Draco were suddenly towering over him. Cerberus was suddenly gargantuan, and all three heads lowered and slurped him upside the face. “What the?” Harry sputtered, but it came out in a series of chitters and coos.

Draco was peering down at him from above, his eyebrow was cocked at a wild angle, and Harry realised he could… smell his mood. He wasn’t sure what mood it was, but he could sense the change.

“You changed him into a raccoon?” Draco commented with a smirk.

“Technically,” Hermione’s voice purred. “He changed himself into a raccoon, Draco. I didn’t twist his arm.”

“Why a raccoon?” Draco asked.

Harry flicked his ears and found himself grooming his face instinctively, stroking his paw-like hands over his head, across his ears, and down his face and then over his bushy ringed tail.

“I figured it was better than turning him into a walrus or a rat,” Hermione said.

Draco sighed. “This way, Potter. I have to let you through the wards or Cerberus’ big brother will try to eat you.”

Harry perked his ears and boggled that he could even perk his ears at all. He made a chattering noise as he shambled after Draco. All the mixture of smells were overwhelming. Sounds were everywhere, and he could feel a million different textures with his hands that was even more overwhelming than the sounds and scents.

Harry about passed out when he saw the giant guardian posted in the adjoining room. “Fluffy,” or what looked just like Fluffy’s old self, was towering over them all, making Draco look as small as Harry was to Draco. Draco paid the beast no heed, and Cerberus just trotted by one of its huge paws.

Draco opened the hidden door with a strange combinations of gestures and it slid open for him. “Go in, Potter. Hurry up.”

Harry wasn’t all too eager to blaze a trail into the unknown as a newly acquainted raccoon, but Cerberus ploughed into him, shoving him along until the door closed behind them. Harry swallowed hard. In the middle of the room was… a giant wolf.

Vaguely, Harry realised that he hadn’t heard Remus transform. The last time he had seen it happen, Lupin had screamed in agony as his body was reformed against his will, but the werewolf was laying down in the middle of what looked like a giant circular mattress in the middle of the room. There were chairs about, but they were off to the side. The werewolf paid none of it any heed, and while his yellow eyes stared into Harry, he showed none of the murderous intent that he had once upon a time.

Harry approached slowly, watching Lupin’s body language for any sign of hostility, but the giant wolf only yawned, his tail beating against the mattress.

Cerberus bounded up to the werewolf and lapped under his chin with all three heads, and Lupin groomed the pup back, using his paws to pin the pup down and hold him still as he groomed each head. The pup squirmed slightly and rolled over on his back, exposing his neck and belly, slurping at Lupin’s jaw.

Harry gathered his courage and approached.

Quick as a flash, a giant paw had him pinned, and Harry’s body froze in fear.

But Lupin wasn’t interested in murdering his friend’s godson, and instead groomed Harry the raccoon with his tongue until all his fur was messed up in about fifty new random directions from nose to tail tip.

Harry used his paw-like hands to bat at Lupin’s muzzle in surrender.

The door slid open, and the blood in Harry’s arteries froze almost instantly. A beast that was so broad in shoulder that it barely fit through the door squeezed in. It started with a black dog-like head and had huge over-sized paws that entered in first. Darker, black wings squeezed in after, talons next, and a huge peacock tail after that. The beast gave a loud whuft, baring its teeth as its wings fluttered and folded back at its sides.

Just as the great beast managed to get through the door, another large shape moved in behind it, and Harry was certain he was having a heart attack as a large, dark eagle head came into view, wickedly curved talons, dark sienna wings, and a tawny hind quarters squeezed into the door. The gryphon gave an eagle call as its wings flapped outward, mirroring the actions of the beast that had come in before. It folded its wings against its body as its long scythe-like talons clicks against the stone floor.

A large, black eagle-owl rode perched on the gryphon’s back, its dark black eyes were the same colour as the rest of it, pure black, save for a splash of white on its breast feathers, barely discernible in the mass of black feathers.

Harry had barely begun to retain his reeling senses when the first beast took a bounding leap towards him, and Harry screeched and dove out of the way, wedging himself under one of the nearby chairs.

The beast growled ferociously, and Lupin answered in kind, their jaws snapping, growls echoing, and slaver dribbling in all directions. They tumbled across the cushion, paws and legs moving, seemingly trying to beat the ever-living daylights out of each other.

The gryphon seemed strangely unconcerned as the pair tumbled back and forth across the cushion.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, the beast and the werewolf came to a halt in a pile in the middle of the cushion, tongues lolling. Lupin’s tail beat against the ground, and the beast bared his teeth, pressing them against Lupin’s throat, but seemed satisfied as Lupin’s tongue licked under the beast’s jaw much as Cerberus had done to Lupin only minutes before.

Lupin let out a lupine yawn, flopping on his side. The beast he had been tussling with moments before echoed the yawn and lay down beside him. The gryphon padded over nonchalantly, seemingly paying no attention to the fact that a werewolf and a beast of unknown origin were just duking it out in front of them, flopped between the werewolf and the beast. The huge eagle-owl settled between the gryphon and the beast as Cerberus snuggled up against the werewolf with a triple-headed yawn. The werewolf draped his paws over the three-headed pup even as the gryphon’s fore-talons wrapped around him, and the beast’s dark wing cast over them all, its large peacock tail wrapping around the pile like a blanket.

Harry slowly crept out from under the chair he was wedged under, his nose working as his ears twitched. Every instinct he had, both human and non, told him that approaching the beastly pile up of magical creatures was all kinds of bad news. Yet, even so, he remembered Hermione’s warning that what he saw tonight would probably “shake him up” but he would safe from harm. He slowly inched closer to the pile, his belly to the ground, his tail flat and puffed due to his nervousness. A soft coo came from his throat despite himself, and he froze as the nearby werewolf opened one eye to look at him.

Harry waited for some sign of impending doom, but found none. The werewolf did not seem bothered by him, the gryphon was snuggled in between the werewolf and the beast fast asleep, and the beast had its eyes closed, its head tucked over the gryphon’s back. Even the eagle-owl’s eyes were shut.

Harry inched closer, knowing in his mind that the werewolf was Lupin, but found himself fighting a series of strange new instincts when facing the other three creatures that were keeping the werewolf company. As he drew near to Remus, the werewolf flopped his foreleg over Harry and drew him against his belly with Cerberus, his head lay against the mattress as his eyes closed.

Harry found himself pinned between a werewolf and a three-headed dog, and his ears twitched as his tail puffed out a little more. As he lay there, however, the warmth from Cerberus and the werewolf was strangely comforting in combination to the sounds of multiple soft inhales and exhales. Harry’s nose worked, and he found the musky combined scent of the pile up strangely soothing. It wasn’t so soon after that his eyes started to drift closed as his head snuggled into the werewolf’s soft belly fur, and Harry the raccoon fell fast asleep for the first time.

 


	69. Breakfast Gone to the Coons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry experiences breakfast as a raccoon.

 

**Chapter 69: Breakfast Gone to the Coons**

Harry opened his eyes blearily. There was was a strange amount of light in the room, and he moved to rub his eyes, when his “hands” connected to his muzzle and startled himself awake.

Eyes darting around wildly, he patted himself with his paws and ended up grooming himself with automatic movements, cooing and chittering to himself. Startling himself again with his own actions, he froze.

“Still trying to figure things out?” Remus’ warm voice greeted him from the nearby armchair. The werewolf was no longer in his wolf form. He sprawled in the chair lazily, his legs set up upon the footstool. “You can join me, if you wish,” he said, gesturing to his lap, “seeing as you are nicely sized to share space at the moment.”

Harry twitched his ears, suddenly aware of so many different layers to Lupin’s voice. He groomed his muzzle nervously, but lumbered over to the footstool and climbed up upon it and used Remus’ legs as a bridge to sit in his lap.

Lupin smiled at him, and Harry sensed a change in his scent. His small nose worked furiously to determine what it meant, but his human mind had not a clue of what to make of it.

“Hermione says I smell like the forest after a rain after I change,” Remus said conversationally, his hand drew across Harry’s head and back.

Harry stiffened at first, surprised by the physical contact, but then a wave of pure pleasure hit him as every hair on his back and neck trembled at Lupin’s touch. It was… comforting and made him feel connected to the werewolf in a way he had never imagined. He found himself rubbing his head against Lupin’s hand, seeking the soft caress of his hand against his fur again and again.

Remus seemed to realise that Harry needed a moment to remember himself, and his hand stopped the rhythmic stroking of Harry’s fur. “Careful, Harry,” Remus said. “You’ll be caught up in our little freakishly mismatched pack bond before your potion wears off.”

Harry drew his hands across his ears and groomed his tail in his hands, making a cooing noise.

“You do make an excellent raccoon, Harry,” Remus said warmly. “Even if you did not choose the form. I will admit to you, this is probably the greatest gift an old abused werewolf can have. I never dreamed to have a real pack in which to soothe the inner wolf. While I loathe to admit it, as much as your father and Sirius tried to provide me company when I was your age, there was never this sense of peace I have now. I think it was because… while they meant well, the only time they really used their animal forms was when I turned, and when I turned it was always in the Shack… a place I associated with horrible things.

“I think it’s something about this place, to be honest,” Remus confessed. “It is a Home, if you sit still enough to feel it. Safe. Protected. Ever since I started coming here, and not just on my moon days, I feel like I’ve been given a gift.” Lupin stroked Harry’s rounded, triangular ears, causing Harry to let out an instinctive cooing sound.

“It… allows me think so many things I never though possible as being… possible,” Remus said. “I know you are a little new to this revelation that there is more to Severus and Draco than you ever knew, Harry, and I understand. It took me… over twenty years to see what Hermione discovered in her second year, and trust me when I tell you that… a good part of what you loathed in Severus was created by myself through inaction, your father in action, Sirius in all of the above… we did horrible things, Harry. Inexcusably horrible things that I will regret the rest of my life. We should have known that no one Lily viewed as a friend could be all bad, but we let ourselves believe that life was black and white, light and darkness, and Slytherin the darkest of them all. And in our… crusade to prove it, we turned two childhood friends against against each other in the most unforgivable manner possible… by destroying Lily’s trust in him to gain hers.

“The truth is, we should have known better,” Remus said sadly. “But we were fools. Fallible, arrogant human beings, blaming others to feel better about our own damaged lives.”

Remus soothed Harry’s fur with his hand, seeming to gain a certain therapeutic effect even as Harry rolled over onto his side to give the werewolf access to his vulnerable belly fur. Lupin smiled and rubbed Harry’s belly fur as well, grinning as the raccoon cooed and chirred softly.

Harry found he couldn’t help himself. The sensation was addicting not only for the pleasurable feeling, but the element of belonging that seemed to thrum from the moment Remus’ hand touched his fur to the moment it lifted. Harry suddenly realised exactly why every one of Hermione’s once secret “family” touched each other as often as possible. In that moment, he realised how hard it must be for any of them not to. For the last few years, Draco and Hermione had never once touched each other in public. Snape had never once shown anything but the scowling, dour, mask of the Hogwarts’ Potion Master that almost everyone believed was his truest face. Harry, feeling the strange tug within him thanks to the gift of Hermione’s transformative potion, understood that whatever magic bound their “pack” together, it was alive, strong, and undeniable in its binding magic. It had healed the tortured soul of Remus Lupin. It had forgiven him his past sins and given him his health back and so much more… and it was because Snape… Professor Snape… that Remus had been allowed into his well guarded pack family to give the werewolf a Home.

Harry placed his paws on Remus’ chest and looked up at him, his green eyes peering out from his masked raccoon face. At that moment, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to be an animagus. Even if he just ended as a raccoon all over again, he wanted to be there for the old friend of his mother’s and Sirius. He wanted to be there for Hermione. He wanted to be worthy of being allowed in this sanctuary. He knew a part of him would be discontent now that he had a taste of the strange bond that sang between Remus, Hermione, Viktor, Snape, the Sky Brothers, and even a certain three-headed Grecian dog. He would long for its song the rest of his life.

Lupin cradled Harry into his arms and stood, “Come on, Ringtail,” he chuffed. “Let’s get breakfast. I smell banana pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice.”

For perhaps the second time in his life apart from when he was a babe, Harry was completely okay with being carried towards the breakfast table by an adult.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry sat on the edge of the kitchen table, his mouth drooling as Snape set down a large plate of sausage and pancakes in front of both he and Lupin.

Remus saluted the Potion Master in gratitude, digging into his pancakes with gusto after drenching them thoroughly in maple syrup. “You want syrup, Harry?” asked Remus.

Harry tried to say “yes” but it came out as a churr.

Lupin grinned at him, pouring syrup over Harry’s pancakes. “I’m not sure if I’m up on my raccoon, Harry, but I’m hoping that was a yes.”

Harry nodded his head and took to stuffing pieces of syrup-drenched banana pancake into his muzzle as fast as raccoonically possible, pausing only to alternate with stuffing sausage into his mouth. The hyper taste sensations of the food drove him into eating even more combinations of things, stealing a strawberry off Lupin’s plate and a blueberry before the werewolf swatted his paws off his breakfast.

“Get your own, Harry! And not off my plate, you ring-tailed miscreant!” bellowed Lupin.

Harry dunked his muzzle into the cup of orange juice nearby, his tongue lapping at the sweet liquid. He bared his teeth as he licked the sweetness off his teeth, lips, and nose, enjoying ever sensation as the juice dribbled off his muzzle.

Harry eyed the fruit on the plate next to him hungrily, and reached out with one paw to get it.

Bat! BatbatbatBATbatbat!

A silver-grey paw swatted Harry’s paws multiple times, causing him to chitter in surprise.

Suddenly, Minerva McGonagall was staring at him from behind her spectacles. “It’s rude to take things off someone else’s plate, Potter, or did you lose your manners somewhere between raiding long lost Chambers of Secrets and becoming a raccoon?”

If raccoons could blush, Harry was pretty sure he was scarlet under his fur. As if to apologise, he placed his paws on the nearby teacup and pushed it over to the Deputy Headmistress.

Minerva stared down at Harry, eyebrow raised, and then she scoffed in amusement. “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she said, lifting her teacup up at him in salute. “I trust you had a good evening, Remus,” she said as she sipped her tea.

Remus nodded affirmatively. “To think I spent so many years sulking in the hospital wing after my nights on the howl. Now, I feel more rested than any other days of the month.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Minerva said as she passed the teapot over. “What was pack life for you back when you were… with Fenrir?”

Remus poured himself some tea, and seeing Harry with his head stuffed into his orange juice glass, passed the teapot down to Draco.

“Fenrir rules with fear, power, and threat to maim,” Remus said. “There is loyalty of sorts because of it, in combination of the fact he bites his people young and trains them early, but there is more brainwashing than true pack structure in his… hierarchy.”

Minerva shook her head. “It’s no wonder you were never content, Remus. I’m sorry.”

“Those days, thankfully,” Lupin said with a smile, “are long behind me. I am glad Albus does not require me to spy upon them anymore. Leaving that rubbish behind was probably a good part of why I was finally able to let go of my sordid past.”

Lupin and Minerva turned their gaze to Harry, who was dropping pieces of pancake and bacon down upon Cerberus who was looking up at him from the edge of the table. The three-headed dog was inhaling the offerings as fast as the raccoon could dish it out to him, occasionally slurping Harry in between inhales.

Minerva arched an eyebrow, stuffing a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

Lupin grinned at her. “He’ll fit right in.”

Minerva shook her head as Harry smashed a blueberry into one of Cerberus’ noses, causing the dog to lick his nose furiously. “So it would seem, Remus.” She extended her long finger to touch Harry under the chin and guide his muzzle to look her in the face. “Tell me, Mr. Potter,” she said with a blank expression. “Do you intend to be more attentive in my transfiguration lessons now?”

Harry churred a reply, bits of breakfast jam dripping from his muzzle. He placed a butter covered hand-like paw on her finger and looked up at her adoringly.

“You’re right, Remus,” Minerva said after a moment. “He does make a sickeningly adorable raccoon.”

“Maybe he really is one,” Remus speculated.

Minerva eyed Harry down her spectacles. “We shall see,” she said with a sniff, releasing her finger from Harry’s breakfast encrusted muzzle.

Harry went back to shoving pieces of pancake into Cerberus’s waiting maws.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry tentatively reached out and touched Hermione’s head, his fingers soothing her soft feathers with care. He had watched her change with Viktor, now that his potion had worn off and he could comes to terms with them without raccoon instincts. Her feathers swirled around his fingers with a silken feel. The warmth from her body and Viktor’s was like a raging furnace.

Both Viktor and Hermione were massive in comparison to what he had believed Remus to be a large werewolf. He had seen lions at the zoo, long ago, but even the largest lion seemed small in size compared to Hermione or Viktor. Hermione’s long raptor talons were literally long enough to encircle his head, and her rear paws were large enough to cover his face. Her beak cracked open slightly as he rubbed under her chin, a soft eagle chirp and strangely rumbling purr came from throat, and Harry suddenly realised that it wasn’t a cat she was like when Viktor and Draco and reduced her into a pile of goo with their massaging, it had been a gryphon all along.

“You’re… beautiful, Hermione,” Harry said, and Hermione’s beak preened his hair skillfully. Harry closed his eyes slightly, feeling the echo of the comforting presence he had experienced while prostrating himself to Remus’ petting earlier that morning. He touched the soft feathers of her wings and where they connected into her furred tawny hide. Her tail whipped around and started to smack into him, the furry tuft whapped him upside the head, and she let out an eagle chuckle as he sputtered. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand why you pleaded so hard for me to learn occlumency, Hermione. I really was a self-absorbed git about it.”

Hermione’s warm brown eyes, set in her eagle face, bored into him and she clamped her beak around his shoulder and squeezed.

Viktor clamped his teeth at the back of Hermione’s neck and she squeaked, releasing Harry and rolled onto her back, legs up in the air. He flopped down on top of her, wings flapping as he stretched them and folded them at his sides. He started grooming Hermione’s feathers and fur dutifully. Hermione clacked her beak together in rapid succession, her head flopping to the side as her eyes drifted closed to his ministrations.

Harry smiled. He knew now why Ron didn’t have a snowball’s chance in volcano in gaining Hermione’s affections. There were some things he would never understand, and Viktor would… in all the ways that mattered.

“Daughter,” Snape’s voice rumbled from the doorway. “I need you to deliver this in person for me, please.”

Hermione’s eagle head popped up instantly, and she went up on all fours, taking a moment to rub up against Viktor before padding over to Severus.

She took on her human form with a speed that had Harry not been watching intently, he may have missed it entirely. She took the sealed scroll from his hand and cast her head down, pressing herself against his body as her nostrils flared in inhaled deeply.

Snape gently enfolded her to his chest, his dark robes covering her as she burrowed into his embrace, and for the first time, Harry realised exactly what caused her to do so.

“Your will is mine,” she said softly and formally, her hand clasping the scroll with a clench of her fingers. She pulled away, looking up at him with silent adoration. She turned back to Harry and Viktor and gave the both a genuine warm smile before she turned on her heels and swept the room, her robes billowing behind her like her Master’s own.

Only a week ago, Harry would have been exceedingly uncomfortable with one of his best friends seeking the touch or embrace of Severus Snape, but after his humbling experience with the silent bonds of the pack that supported both the kind-hearted Remus and his ever dutiful Hermione, he knew exactly what Snape and Draco would do to keep those they cared about safe and able to touch and be touched.

Everything.

“Oi, Ringtail,” Draco called from the table. “Care to beat me in a game of Wizard Chess? Severus refuses to indulge me.” He gestured off in the direction of the adjoining room where Snape, Lupin, and McGonagall were discussing something in importance over a pile of parchments and scrolls.

Draco arched a brow at him in challenge.

Harry furrowed his brows as he realised that he had been given a nickname, and he was strangely okay with it. “You’re on, Malfoy,” Harry replied. “I will obliterate you.”

“You will try, mask-face,” Draco huffed as he set up the board.

Viktor shoved Harry forward with his giant wedged head, causing Harry to stumble towards Draco. Harry grunted, turning to look at the simurgh with a conflicted look. Viktor yawned at him toothily, showing all of his very pointed and pearly white teeth.

Harry took the hint and scurried off to join Draco at the table.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Heheh. I think that Harry is doomed to be called “Ringtail” the rest of his life by the pack, as it were, regardless of what form he ends up as. I’ve had a lot of suggestions to make him a medium sized sneaky cat of some wild type, and others going for lupine or canine (which would make both Sirius and Lupin amused I’m sure,) raptors, some mythical types, and even a few requests to keep him as a raccoon. I’ll admit… raccoon Harry is kind of growing on me, even though it was utterly random! He could be the sneaky bandit who always has to use his wits to get into or out of trouble. I haven’t decided yet on what to make Harry, and it will be a while until he is trained enough to make the actual shift, so by all means feel free to add your recommendations for animagus Harry as they hit you.

This chapter was inspired by real life, believe it or not. Once upon a time, when I was too young to know it so I had to hear it second hand, my parents were camping out in Oregon and were woken by the sound of breaking Styrofoam. My father opened up the tent flap and looked at the picnic table on the campsite, and saw a raccoon with his hands inside the cooler. He had taken out both a cob of corn in one hand and a stick of butter in the other. The coon looked at my father and rapidly started to try to stuff BOTH things into his mouth as fast as possible before running off the table. My dad swears to this day that he wished he’d had a camera back then because it was almost too surreal to be real.


	70. End of Fifth Year - Train Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a nightmare and needs to tell someone about it.  
> Harry and Ron spend the night with Hermione.  
> Viktor meets Hermione's parents.

**Chapter 70: End of Fifth Year - Train Out**

Harry stirred restlessly in his sleep for the first time since he had truly gotten a handle on his occlumency. He moaned softly at first, causing Ron to wake, but then he grew more restless and more loud.

Ron sat up in bed, concern and worry hung about his face as he debated on trying to wake him. All the times before, his attempts had not woken him before, all the other times… Harry had practically bitten his head off when he attempted to ask.

Harry was groaning in his sleep. It was a mournful sound, filled with anguish. Ron fidgeted, finally deciding that whatever Harry was experiencing was not worth him suffering any longer.

Harry shot up out of bed with a start, panting heavily. He wiped his brow with his hand and stared out into the room with a look of pure anguish.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked with concern.

Harry rubbed his temples with his fingers. “It… was a really bad nightmare.”

Ron frowned. “Was it about… him?”

Harry shook his head. “No, well, not directly.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the ceiling. Harry swallowed hard. What he really wanted to do right now was touch Hermione and make sure she was okay. “It was a nightmare about Hermione. She was… hurt. Badly.” She was dead. Her blank eyes were staring back at him in death. Harry clenched his fists. “I need to… talk to her,” he said, flinging his blankets to the side.

“Right now?” Ron said with disbelief. “You’d have to… goto Snape’s quarters. I’m fairly certain he isn’t going to let you in at this hour.”

Harry gave Ron a haunted look. “I have to try, Ron… the nightmare… it felt… I need to be sure she’s okay.”

Ron frowned and nodded. “Alright,” said Ron as he threw off his covers. “I’ll go with you. If something is going to threaten Hermione, I’d rather not be sitting here sleeping through it.”

Harry, torn between gratitude and not wanting to make for an uncomfortable situation between Ron and Hermione, nodded instead. They threw on their robes over their night clothes, stepping over their packed suitcases and trunks that were ready for their departure for the summer break.

They hurried down the stairwell together, slipping out from the portrait, who snorted fitfully in her sleep as they crept out.

They crept by the sleeping portraits without lighting their wands, trying to attract as little attention as possible, slowly making their way towards the dungeon staircase.

A wand lit up in their path, as the tall, dark, and cranky looking Potion Master glared down his aquiline nose at them both. “Tell me, Potter, Weasley,” he said through a sneer. “Did you wait for all the house points to be calculated and cup righteously won before planning your midnight walk through Hogwarts? Or can you not help yourselves regardless of occasion?”

Ron stared down at his shoes. Harry looked at Ron before looking Snape in the eye. “I had a dream sir,” he confessed. “About Hermione.” He stared up at Severus with a genuine look of pleading, praying that he would see through what he was really trying to say in front of Ron without blurting everything out.

Severus narrowed his eyes at him, his dark eyes as unreadable as ever. “Very well, Mr. Potter,” he said coldly. “You may follow me.” He turned on his heels abruptly, walking towards the dungeon, taking his mage-light with him.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances and followed after, hurrying to keep up both not to piss Snape or lose the light of the path down.

By the time the two of them reached Snape’s guarding portrait door, he had already opened it and stood beside it as he stared into them. He said absolutely nothing, and his expression was, as to be expected, equally unrevealing.

Severus watched them carefully as they entered his quarters and closed the door behind them as they came in. “I trust you can behave yourselves enough to not… touch anything?” The Potion Master eyed Ron who was staring curiously at a nearby tea service.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said, ribbing Ron in the ribs with his elbow.

Snape curled his lip at them, but said nothing as he exited the room, disappearing into the dark of his quarters as only a person who knew their own home backwards and forwards could.

Hermione entered the room a few minutes later. Her hair was every which way, and her nightgown was crumpled. She looked blearily at them. One equally dissheveled hippogriff glared at them both through her hair, looking as though both of them had been woken from a deep sleep.

Harry could contain himself no longer, and rushed up to her, enfolding her into a bear hug that practically squeezed the life out of her. Hermione squeaked in surprise, but her arms went around him as her face pressed into his hair, inhaling the distinctively nutmeg scent of his skin. Her eyes closed as she guided Harry’s face to the junction of her neck and shoulder, where her scent was strongest.

“I’m okay, Harry,” she said, her hand gently stroking his black hair, her fingers massaging the place between his ears he had adored as a raccoon.

Harry pulled away reluctantly. He searched Hermione’s eyes as if trying to validate that she wasn’t just a very vivid hallucination.

Hermione smiled warmly. “Come, I’ll make tea. You can see my room, that I’m sure Ron is convinced is a dungeon cell complete with manacles.”

Ron blushed, looking down at his feet.

They pair followed Hermione to her room, the path lit only by a small light Vik seemed to be carrying in his beak he perched on Hermione’s shoulder.

As they came to a door, she traced an intricate pattern on the surface of the door before it swung open. The candle lamps flared to life as she entered, casting the room with a warm orange glow. Little Vik fluttered over to a nest of scrolls and parchments that was sitting on the bookshelf, burrowing inside with a happy chirp.

Her bed was covered in a heavy quilt made with Gryffindor colours, the patches of cloth formed into a very elaborate lion rampant. Her rugs and table accents, however, were a deep Slytherin green. The candle lamps were all a distinctive shining silver. A large tapestry hung on the wall closest to her bed. The earthen tones formed an epic battle of beasts.

Harry stared at the tapestry with wonder. It portrayed a very mythical scene of a gryphon and a simurgh poised like the heraldry lion rampant opposing each other, talons and paws extended together. Their wings were flared out in graceful archs. Four birds flew overhead in the sky. On the side of the tapestry was a forest with an exposed hill where a large wolf and what looked like a smaller wolf or dog beside beside them was either three identical dogs or one dog with three heads. In the dimness of the room, it was hard to tell, but Harry had a pretty good idea what it really was. On the other side of the tapestry was another forest, and woven in it were the shapes of centaurs woven within the trunks of the trees. At the very top of the tapestry however, was a great owl, wings fanned outward as if in mid flight, its black wings spread as if over all creation. Wrapped around the extended talons of the owl was a serpent.

“Whoa,” Ron said as he looked at the epic scene. “Where ever did you get this, ‘mione?”

Hermione smiled. “Valko made it for me as a Christmas present. He said my room needed… ‘something epic to vatch over me when brothers not around.’”

Ron blinked. “Well, it certainly fulfils that.”

Hermione smirked, grabbing the water kettle from the hearth and pouring it into the tea kettle to seep.

Ron eyed the tea kettle suspiciously. It was a dark emerald green enamel kettle. The surface was covered in a crackled patina. The handle of the kettle was a very realistic looking snake. “Does Snape force you to adopt Slytherin decor, ‘mione?”

Hermione furrowed her brows at Ron. “I think Professor Snape has better things to do than force me to adopt Slytherin decor, Ron.”

“It’s just… I can’t help but notice you room is a bit… Slytherin,” Ron protested.

Hermione smirked. “I asked my Master for a few things to add to my room. He gave me what he had to offer. However, Professor McGonagall gave me the quilt for Christmas.”

Ron shuddered, his expression seemingly indicated he was convinced that sleeping in a room with so much “Slytherin” themed decor would somehow transform Hermione into pure-blood supremacist.

Hermione poured the tea into cups and gave Harry and Ron one. “Ron, you’re being a prat. I’m not going to mutate into some sort of Death Eater because I sleep in a room decorated in green.”

Ron took the tea, but looked unconvinced. He stared at the teacup suspiciously as though coming from a green enamel snake teapot contaminated the tea as well.

Hermione, very intentionally, took a long swig of her tea, downing it completely in front of Ron, arching her eyebrow at him.

Harry nudged Ron with his elbow. “You are carrying on a bit paranoid, mate.”

Ron sipped his tea.

“Harry,” Hermione said. “What had you so worried that you had to come here in the middle of the night?”

Harry finished his tea as he gathered his thoughts. “You died, Hermione. You were… arguing with Professor Dumbledore. There was a ring. He said he could handle it… that he could contain whatever was in it. It was worth the risk. You told him that no risk was worth whatever price came with it. You fought. He tried to put it on, and you accio’ed it to your hand, and it slipped on your finger… and you died, Hermione… in agony, right in front of him. This blackness spread across your body and swallowed you up.” Harry clenched his fist. “And Dumbledore… he just stared at you and took the ring off your finger.”

Harry fidgeted as Ron looked at him in horror. “Then… Snape came in. His face was half covered in the same black. He took one look at your… body, and he… lost it. They argued… and then Dumbledore turned his back on him. Snape pointed his wand at Dumbledore and said the killing curse… and then Snape died too. The blackness took him.”

Hermione moved over to Harry and took him into a hug, pulling him close. “Oh, Harry,” she murmured. She tucked his head under her chin and stroked his hair with her hand. “I promise you, if I get into an argument with Professor Dumbledore over a death cursed ring, I will not accio it to my finger and kill myself. I promise. Knock it out of his hand, maybe. Turn him into a hippopotamus that can’t wear a ring, perhaps… but I will not attempt to put on any evil artifacts. I swear.”

Harry let out his breath in a gasp in a half laugh. “I don’t even want to think of you duelling Professor Dumbledore over anything, Hermione. He held his own against You-know-who…”

“I swear to you, I don’t plan on it. Ever,” Hermione reassured him. “Anymore than I plan to get into a battle of interpretive dance with the Dark Lord.”

Harry snorted, unable to not laugh at the mental picture. He clung to Hermione, holding her against him in a tight hug. “Promise me you won’t put on any evil rings.”

“I promise, Harry,” she promised him. “I will not, by my own volition, attempt to put on any evil rings.”

Harry smiled at her, feeling slightly better.

Hermione smiled and stood up. “Well, since you are here and it’s past the Witching Hour, you might as well stay the night.”

Hermione opened up a cabinet under the bookshelf and pulled out a pile of linens and what looked like a miniature set of mattresses. She tapped the mattresses with her wand, enlarging them, and unrolling them across the floor. She lay the linens and some pillows she pulled out of the cabinet out for them.

Ron looked apprehensively at the dark green linens.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione scolded. “Get over it.”

Harry snickered as he smacked Ron upside the head with a pillow.

Hermione extinguished the lights with a wave of her hand and crawled under her covers to sleep, leaving the two boys to figure out how to get back into just their sleeping clothes in the dark.

“Ow! What’cha do that for?” Ron blurted in the dark.

“I didn’t do anything!” Harry scolded.

Hermione felt something land upon her bed as Crookshanks head bonked her, purring loudly. She grinned, opening up the covers to let the half-Kneazle under the quilt with her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione stared at the packed trunk by the door as she brought out Crookshank’s carrier with trepidation. The first summer she had to spend away from what had become her family filled her with a sense of loss before she had even left. Thrum of the invisible bonds between them were as strong as they ever were, but the thought of being away from every member as she was trapped in in the Muggle life for a set of months unsettled her heart.

Crookshanks hopped up on top the trunk, completely accustomed to the routine when the trunks came out. Cerberus whined softly in triplicate. He wasn’t sure what to make of the trunks, but he sensed that something horrible was going to happen, and he picked up on Hermione’s anxiety making the three-headed dog ripe with his own puppy anxiety.

He had grown quite a bit, even in the last few months, measuring up over where a full grown larger Muggle dog would have ranked, but Hermione knew that he would have a lot of growing to do to get to full size. Thankfully, the charmed collars upon him would keep his size to a much more manageable size. It wasn’t that the pup wasn’t manageable, obedient, and happy to please, in fact, he had better manners at the dinner table than a certain boy she knew, but there were only so many practical places that could fit a gargantuan, even well behaved, three headed dog.

Cerberus whined, sniffing at the packed trunks, and leaned his heads against her leg, staring up at her as if she was going away forever. Crookshanks snubbed the pup, the half-Kneazle always seemed to think the pup was making much ado about nothing. Crookshanks, for whatever reason, was not caught up in the pack bond. Whether it was because he was a cat in the truest sense or some mixture of Kneazle that made him immune, Hermione didn’t know. He loved on each of the residents of the Lair quite equally, but he snubbed them just as equally, as only a cat could do. Cerberus, however, perhaps because he was a sort of canine, was smack in the middle of it, and through him, one only had to pet him to sense the thrum of pack “song” that bound them all together. Hermione, honestly, wasn’t sure. Perhaps Crookshanks simply chose not to be apart of it as a cat’s born right to abstain from whatever they wished. Minerva was, even as human witch, quite the quintessential cat, and even she was not immune to the pack song. It had slowly assimilated her into its powerful embrace ever since Hermione had taken her for their first flight together. A part of Hermione wondered, had Remus truly had a pack bond with the Marauders and Peter Pettigrew been a part of it, if betrayal of his friends would have even been possible.

Remus had a hypothesis that the reason they had forged a true “pack” together was the ties of the first that had created it. The bond between Hermione and Severus may have been the start of it. It had become something tangible, supportive, and beyond reproach in its strength. The addition of Draco had, perhaps, only given the bond a change in form, mutating it to support more than just two. With the addition of Viktor and his already strong bonds between his fellow Durmstrang brothers, once he was assimilated, so too were they, and now… the pack song was alive with its own sort of sentience, binding its allies within the web of its music, insuring that they could no more betray the other than they could willingly cut out their own heart.

Hermione had asked Remus if it was because every member had an inner animal that such a thing were even possible outside the scope of werewolves. Lupin had smiled sadly, stating that even the notorious Fenrir had failed in that one aspect of werewolf society. He had a pack, he said, and perhaps, arguably, a pack bond, but there was no pack song. It was the song, he said, that made their makeshift pack something real. Remus had said at no time in his life, did he have the desire to touch Fenrir, and short of bringing down his law or engaging in carnal activities, Fenrir did not engage in the kind of physical closeness with his pack. His pack, while it did have its fanatical members, was not built on the emotional and physical closeness of its combined members. Hermione had shaken her head, having been sorry that Remus was denied something so important to his inner wolf.

Remus had smiled at her warmly. “I wouldn’t trade what I have gained now, Hermione,” he had said. “This is something priceless, and I would have waited a hundred years in suffering had I known this would be waiting at the end.”

Hermione quivered as she stared at her packed belongings. What was a few months to a hundred years? It wasn’t like she was going to be completely without. The bond was still there. The song was still strong. She would just… miss everyone horribly.

Severus pulled her to him suddenly, having sneaked up behind her as only he could do, somehow defying all her senses with his owlish stealth. He crushed her to his chest, pulling her into him and his scent, insuring she was sufficiently basted in both scent and energy. She could feel his regret that she was leaving for the summer to go “home” when both of them knew that her true Home was here with him.

“You should take the three-headed menace with you,” he murmured into her hair as his hand stroked it gently.

“But… I don’t want you to feel alone either,” Hermione protested.

Severus brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Stupid girl,” he said warmly, his voice rumbling in the air. “Your brothers will insure I do not sleep without sufficient bird balls to keep me warmed at night, and Lupin will be here to shed upon me so I have to get myself a lint brush before I can be seen in public. Between that and the obnoxious silver tabby that has been taken to sitting in my lap like a familiar, I will… be fine.” His voice was reassuring, but Hermione knew from their tenacious bond that he would miss her horribly, just as much as she would miss him.

She clutched him around the waist, burying her face against the fabric of his robes. “I will miss you, father,” she said sorrowfully. She met his dark eyes with the shine of tears in her own.

Severus looked down at her fondly. He pulled out a scroll from his robes and handed it to her. “Don’t forget this, my daughter,” he admonished.

Hermione took the scroll with a puzzled look. It was sealed with Severus’ personal seal and the official seal of Hogwarts.

Severus’s corner of his mouth quirked upward, enjoying her insatiable curiosity. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on your internship this summer due to your parents not getting… the memo?”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she threw herself at him once more, practically squeezing the life out of him.

He pressed his hand to her head, drawing her head against him with a softening of his eyes. “I’m hoping to have the location of the chalice figured out by the time you return,” he said into her hair. “With Dumbledore back in office, and Potter’s oddly timed… sufficiently disturbing… dream… I will talk to Moody about insuring that the ring is under extra special lock down. I do not want to tip our hand to the Dark Lord until we can destroy them all at once, lest he find the Chalice and this… crown, wherever it is, before we can.”

Hermione nodded.

Severus’ expression became grave. “Also, if Potter’s dream was tapping into something, even a possible future… I do not want Albus to get his hands on that ring. Not even to be tempted. And for that purpose,” he said as he handed her a book.

“Wizarding Symbols Throughout the Ages?” Hermione said, touching the book.

“A little homework for you while you are away,” Severus said. “I sketched the ring on a parchment and put it in the front of the book. Let me know if you find anything.”

Hermione smiled, always happy to dive into a book for research.

“Oh, and here,” Snape pulled out a leash from his robe. “For the miscreant in Muggle public.”

Hermione took the leash with amusement. She looked down at Cerberus who was giving her his best puppy eyes in triplicate in order not to be left behind from whatever adventure she was going on without him.

“How would you like to come with me, hrm?” She asked the pup.

Furious tail wagging answered her.

Hermione grinned at Cerberus, who gave a happy triple bark.

“You’d never know he’s the same dog that tried to take your ankle off, my Master,” Hermione said as she patted Cerberus on the head.

“Proof that naming him Cerberus insures he is well behaved, retains his manners, and treats my home like a shrine, and that naming anything ‘Fluffy’ will insure bad behaviour and even more disgusting table manners,” Severus said dryly.

Hermione laughed. “Yes, my Master,” she said with a grin.

Severus touched Hermione’s forehead gently, brushing the hair from face. “With Dumbledore back on this throne, my daughter, you will have to keep your thoughts well guarded. Never forget that he is one of the smoothest legilimens I know of.”

“I will, father,” she said with a nod.

Severus sighed. “I find myself wishing I could give you the childhood you deserve, instead of taking it away from you piece by piece.”

Hermione locked gazes with him warmly “Who says you aren’t giving me the childhood I deserve?” She placed her palm over his ribcage. “When I am with you I am at peace. Through you, I have gained a wondrous family. I have a Home. I have the gift of knowing who you really are. How many can say they truly know their parents? How many can know that even when you are yelling at me for being impertinent, banishing me to my room to do my homework, or having me do shielding spells until my legs are wobbly that you really do wish the best for me?

“I used to listen to Lavender and Pavarti complain daily that their parents never understood them. They would bemoan that they could never understand what their mother or father wanted of them. I used to be there too. Unable to understand what my parents wanted of me. Still do. But you, my father, my Master… there is not one time since you took me under your wing that I did not know what you wished of me… even if I didn’t know how to get there, and there hasn’t been a time you have sent me to my room that I have not desperately deserved it.

“I know I haven’t been easy for you,” Hermione said softly. “Your meddling know-it-all Gryffindor Apprentice… tormenting her exasperated Slytherin Master with ceaseless questions for upwards of four insufferable years… five if your count my first year where we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Severus let out his breath slowly and soothed her head gently. “I think the first year you agreed to be my apprentice we had to relearn what we thought of each other. The second, we realised we had found trust where we never though we would find it. Last year, we became a true partnership, and this year, we have found a family... not only in each other but in this strange song that binds more than just us together. What wonders… do you think… shall become of us this next year?”

“Harry discovers he’s actually a raccoon, gets caught stealing candy out of Professor Dumbledore’s beard, and and ends up in detention with you for a week trying to explain himself?” Hermione suggested cheerfully.

Severus’ eyebrow arched into his black hair. “I would stick to potions and arithmancy, my daughter,” he rumbled. “I find your divination skills disturbing.”

Hermione chuckled and nodded in assent.

“Just so you know,” Snape said, pacing back and forth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Albus wishes me to take up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts next term to allow Horace Slughorn to take up potions. This will make your apprenticeship… interesting.”

“Horace Slughorn?” Hermione asked curiously. “I’ve never even heard of him.”

Severus chuckled. “He was once the Head of Slytherin House during his fifty year tenure with Hogwarts. He retired back in 1981.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You replaced him!”

Snape smirked. “Indeed.”

“Is he a genius?” Hermione asked excitedly. “Does he do potions differently? Do think I’ll learn anything from him?”

Severus snorted, placing his palm to her forehead. “He is a passable Potioneer, my Apprentice, and a decent enough teacher even though he does not encourage perfection as much as he collects it.”

“Collects… perfection?” Hermione asked, arching her brow much like he had earlier.

“More like… future prestige,” Severus said, waving his had in a way that seemed like he’d been speaking with the Malfoys recently. “He has a… club. He collects… people. People with rare talent, especially… people with fame they were born with… with the gamble that if he treats them well, they will, in turn, remember this when they are in places of great power or fame.”

“So he’ll be after Harry then?” Hermione deduced.

Snape nodded. “I have no doubt that is how Albus is going to lure the man into Hogwarts again. He has… been on the run since his retirement. Never staying long in once place or another, lest the agents of the Dark Lord find him. He will, most likely, get Potter to assist him in snagging Slughorn out of whatever place he’s hiding in.”

Hermione furrowed his brows. “What… makes Slughorn so important to Dumbledore’s plans?”

Snape smirked. “You have become a Slytherin, daughter. You immediately want to know what benefits one gains from a move on the board.”

Hermione smirked. “I have convincing role models.”

Snape’s mouth quirked upward. “Slughorn may have information on the Horcruxes that Albus wants. He wants Potter to help him get it, I’m sure. I cannot be sure exactly what information Dumbledore truly wishes to gleen off him, but I have not made a point to ask.”

Hermione frowned. “There is a history between this… Slughorn and the Dark Lord?”

“Undoubtedly,” Severus answered.

“He’s Slytherin, so he probably holds it close to his chest,” Hermione grunted.

“Assuredly,” he replied.

“So, I’ll be watching him watch Harry,” Hermione deduced.

“You won’t have much else to do in Potions,” Severus grunted. “I guarantee you there will be nothing he has you brewing that you do not already know backwards, forwards, and diagonally.”

Hermione snorted. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

“Faith, nothing,” Severus droned. “I have not trained you to be a typical sixth year dunderhead. You are ready to pass your N.E.W.T.s in potions and you know it.”

Hermione met her father’s dark eyes. “You want me to hold off taking my potion’s N.E.W.T. so I can be in the class next term.”

Severus arched a brow, inclining his head.

“Very well, my Master,” Hermione said. “Your will is mine.”

Severus opened his arm and Hermione stepped into his embrace, closing her eyes as she snuggled into him. “Have a safe journey home. I will see you when you return.”

Hermione pulled Little Vik out from her hair and kissed him on the beak. “Take care of our Master, little guy. Make sure he remembers who loves him.”

Vik fluttered his wings and rubbed up against her face, chirping happily, allowing her to tuck him into Severus’ collar so he was hidden in his hair.

Severus arched a brow at his daughter, and she smiled up at him with genuine warmth.

Hermione grabbed her rolling cart and headed out the door, Cerberus trotting loyally by her heels as he stared up at her with two out of three heads. Her dark robes swished behind her as she disappeared beyond the portrait to head to the train depot.

Vik chirped warmly and rubbed up against Severus’ neck, and his hand lifted up to alight on the miniature hippogriff’s warm wings.

Severus closed his eyes, his hand clutching the warm hippogriff against his neck tightly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco found himself sitting with his eyes glazing over as he listened to the chatter around in the Slytherin compartment of the train. Returning “home” for the summer was getting to be harder each year, but being parted from his sister in all but blood, his godfather, and his packmates added a new level of unease to his mind.

He fingered the “writing” quill in his hand, absently, his fingers stroking the soft feather vanes over and over. Hermione had crafted the quill from one of her own feathers, shrinking it down so it would look like any typical raptor or owl feather, but he knew what it really was. It was a piece of his sister, gifted to him on his birthday so he would have something of her to take with him over the summer. The writing tip was finely constructed to look like a serpent coiled around the base—perfectly Slytherin as to not attract any attention from his Slytherin cohorts. His sister had become quite the Slytherin herself, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to his and his godfather’s influence or if she had been naturally born that way. Maybe a little from each column applied in her case.

Blaise Zabini was, not surprisingly, absent from the train. His inpromptu marriage to Romilda Vane, now Mrs. Zabini, had managed to not only bind him legally to the equally smitten woman, but made him absolutely impossible to talk to for most of the Slytherin House. No one in the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Artifacts or otherwise, could figure out a way to neutralise the binding magic on the Ring of Matrimony, and since the ring affected not only Blaise but also Romilda, the two of them were looking for a house together, much to their mutual family’s horror. To make matters worse, there was talk of giving the two of them private quarters in Hogwarts since they were, officially and legally, married. Their many attempts to break into the other’s House to see each other had stirred up Slytherin and Gryffindor enough that both Snape and McGonagall had started to plot of some way to deal with them that did not involve letting their corresponding Houses lose every point allotted to them before the end of the school year.

Crabbe and Nott, thank Merlin, were mostly back to their normal selves at last, thanks to multiple doses of some concoction the Ministry potion staff had come up with. The aftereffects of their drunken adventures in love-smitten obsession, however, were apparently still being felt. Crabbe was prone to wandering off to pick flowers at any random moment, and Nott had gained an unnatural proclivity to replying to any conversation in iambic pentameter.

Draco had found a way to occupy Goyle by telling him that he had to keep Crabbe out of trouble, and considering Crabbe’s newfound desire to pick flowers every time he saw them, which included seeing them outside the train window, it was a full time job.

Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne, hadn’t quite lived down their embarrassing inebriation antics either, having become targets of whispers and rumours stirred up within Slytherin House itself, which was infinitely more embarrassing to those such as they. They always wanted to come out smelling of flowers in situations, and the only thing they really managed to smell like after the Hogsmeade disaster was butterbeer.

If anything overly good came out of the Hogsmeade Butterbeer fiasco, it was that the Dark Lord seemed less apt to recruit from such a disturbing pool of socially disastrous talent, and for that service, Draco could only breathe in a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted at this point was to be recruited as a Death Eater, even though he knew, thanks to his father, that it was going to be a “family affair.”

Strangely though, the invite or even a hint of it, never came, and for that as well, Draco was utterly thankful. Apparently, his father’s “success” in retrieving the prophecy had helped keep the Dark Lord “happy” with his servant, and thus recruiting his son was not the huge priority it could have been. Draco had no idea how the mind of the Dark Lord truly worked; he could only guess. The loss of Bellatrix from their number had apparently not even bothered the Dark Lord either, and if her husband Rodolphus had any lingering love or care for his wife enough to seek retribution, Draco hadn’t heard a whisper of it from his father. His father, he had a tentative sense, was relieved that Bellatrix was out of the picture. Even amongst the Death Eaters, she was notoriously unstable, and she had almost caused his father to drop the very prophecy that had been sent to fetch. Perhaps, Draco mused, that was the reason no one had been too upset when Bellatrix hadn’t returned to the “fold,” especially since those that had stayed to follow Bellatrix’ orders had been captured and imprisoned.

Draco yawned and leaned his head against the train window. Sleeping through the ride to King’s Cross Station didn’t sound bad at all. He closed his eyes and set about doing just that.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ron stared at Hermione as she was draped over Pigwidgeon’s cage, fast asleep. Her dark robes, which she hadn’t even bothered changing out of for the typical Muggle clothes everyone was usually all too happy to get in for the train ride home, draped around her like curtains. The small owl hooted softly. He had hopped closer to the edge of the cage, and surprisingly, cuddled up next to Hermione’s face as she slept. Save for the soft hoots, he was being a perfect gentleman, and that alone made Ron wonder who had spiked the owl’s food with a sedative.

Cerberus was curled up on the floor by her seat. One head was sleeping, One was staring intently at Ron, and one was busy grooming himself. Ron wondered what it would be like to have three personalities stuck in one body but forced to share it. The dog seemed to handle it well enough, but somehow he figured having three people stuck in one body would be infinitely more horrible.

The afternoon was even more full of surprises, as Harry had fallen asleep against Hermione not shortly after she had passed out over Pigwidgeon. Somehow, recently, Harry had become closer to Hermione. It wasn’t so much a change a relationship, as far as he could tell. Harry hadn’t shown or given indication that wished to change anything between himself or Hermione, but he actually seemed to make it a point to be physically close to Hermione. He’d lean against her more often, rub her shoulder, or touch her every so often during conversation. It wasn’t, or didn’t seem, romantic, but it seemed like whatever unspoken “male code” of treating her like “one of the guys,” which usually included nothing more than an arm swat or the occasional shoulder bump, had somehow altered. Even more strangely, it seemed like this change made Hermione much more mellow and less high-strung, and she demonstrated this by… falling asleep on the cage of the most twitterpated owl on this side of the Atlantic.

Ron busied himself by chewing on an licorice wand. Hermione had given the cheerful older lady who tended the cart an entire galleon, filling their compartment on the train in sweets. While Ron and Harry had dove upon many of them, Hermione had munched on a pile of pumpkin pasties with enthusiasm. Come to think of it… gorging on sweets was probably why Hermione and Harry were passed out on each other. What was it that Hermione had muttered on occasion? Sugar crash? Apparently Ron had somehow managed not to have enough sweets to cause that particular phenomena in himself, but then again, his sweet eating endurance tended to be high and on the extreme in comparison to his friends’.

Neville knocked on the door to the compartment and slid the door open. “May I come in? Seamus started a horrible karaoke in the coach.” Neville’s face was slightly horrified. “He has all the first and second years singing Muggle sailor songs.”

Ron shook his head and gestured to the half candy-covered seat beside him.

“Wow, all this candy,” Neville gasped. “May I… have one?”

Ron smirked. “I’m sure Hermione would want you to have your fill. We did.”

“Hermione bought this?” Neville said with wonder. “Amazing.”

Cerberus had perked up upon Neville’s entry into the car, his eyes watching him carefully.

“He does have a baleful stare,” Neville noted, sitting down on the seat next to Ron.

“Well he is a guard dog,” Ron said with a grin. He’s actually quite friendly now.

“He doesn’t look very friendly, Ron,” Neville said doubtfully.

“Aw, he just thinks he’s guarding right now,” Ron said. “See how he tracks you all three heads?”

“Can’t really help not noticing,” Neville said.

Ron smirked, noting that Neville looked like he was going to just run right out the compartment door again. “Come ‘ere, ya big lug,” Ron said, patting his knee.

Cerberus perked his ears. Ron was on the preapproved list in Cerberus’ mind and he lacked any conflicting instructions, so he rose up on all fours and padded over, placing his heads on Ron’s lap, staring up at him. Ron pet him behind the ears. He grabbed some biscuits from pile beside him and balanced them on the bridge of the dog’s multiple muzzles. “Easy now… steady…”

Cerberus’ tail was wagging furiously, eyes focused on the tasty biscuits that were so close to being in his mouth.

“Ok!” Ron said.

All three heads snapped as fast as a crocodile’s, and the three biscuits were being chewed on by each head. Cerberus was trying hard to be a lap dog, half crawling up onto the seat to sprawl on Ron’s lap, his tail thwapping into the side of the train seat back.

“Oof,” Ron grunted. “See, Neville?”

Neville relaxed a little. He extended a biscuit to the nearest head, and Cerberus inhaled it, lapping at Neville’s hand with his tongue. Within a few minutes, Cerberus had Neville charmed into petting all three of his heads at the same time, and the dog had managed to not only sprawl all the way across Ron’s lap, but ended up half in Neville’s as well. Neville sputter a little as the pup lapped his face mercilessly.

“He doesn’t touch the food here?” Neville asked, as he fed another biscuit to a begging head.

“Not unless you give it to him,” Ron said with amusement, pushing Cerberus’ tail out of the way. “He knows better.”

“Wish my gran’s dog knew better. He’s a right terror,” Neville admitted. “Eats food right off your plate if you don’t watch him. Sometimes… eats it right off your plate if you are watching.”

“Can you see Hermione or Snape tolerating that sort of thing?” Ron smirked at Neville.

Neville shook his head rapidly. “Maybe I should bring the little blighter over to spend time with Hermione for a weekend. Teach him some manners?”

“I have no doubt at all that she could get any dog to behave, Neville,” Ron said. “The question is, would they behave to your gran or you afterwards.”

Neville shook his head. “Hey, where is Ginny? Isn’t she with you guys?”

“Naw,” Ron said. “Those two were being too boring for her,” said Ron as he gestured to the two sleeping on the other seat. “She went off with a gaggle of girls to get their fill of gossip before summer.”

“You’d think they got all of that out of the way back at Hogwarts,” Neville said.

“I don’t know,” Ron said. “Some of the girls are acting kind of strange lately. It’s like they are watching us. Have you noticed?”

Neville shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“I’m not sure how to explain it…” Ron admitted. “Lavender waved at me the other day. Like this.” Ron finger-waved to Neville.

Neville made a face. “That’s disturbing.

“I know, right?” Ron shuddered.

“Maybe someone… spiked their drinks again?” Neville suggested.

“Merlin… I hope not,” Ron groaned, remembering all too well what drunken Ginny had done after the “Hogsmeade Incident.” It had taken his mother weeks to stop sending almost four status checks on Ginny a day. All of them had come via Errol, which meant embarrassing meal times for everyone in food flinging difference as well as personal embarrassment for Ginny. Ron wasn’t sure how she could even drink butterbeer after the entire fiasco, but she seemed to think that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Doing anything this summer, Ron?” Neville asked.

“Fred and George seem to think I should come work for them at the joke shoppe they set up,” Ron snorted.

“You disagree?” Neville asked.

“A joke shoppe?” Ron said, shaking his head. “It’s hard to believe anything like that would really take off, ya know?”

Neville shrugged. “I know you don’t always approve of your brothers’ antics, but you have to admit they do have a certain business savvy.”

Ron shook his head. “Jokes for a living, though?”

Neville smiled. “Look at it this way. They want to make the world a little happier. That’s pretty admirable.”

Ron looked doubtful.

“It’s more than just some disapproval of your brother’s choice in professions, isn’t it?” Neville said, suddenly serious.

Ron sighed, leaning back in the seat. “All my brothers are driven to do something. They all have some vision of how they want to leave their footprints on the world. Not me. I’m not good with dragons, I’m not going to be a curse-breaker, I don’t have any knack for business… hell even Ginny knows she wants to get into Quidditch when she leaves Hogwarts… I’m just Ronald Weasley… that Weasley without a clue.”

“Shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, mate,” Neville said. “We just got out of fifth year.”

Ron sighed. “You’d think I had better things to worry about, like.. V..him.”

Neville chuckled. “Ron, if I’ve learned anything in the past five years… well two things. One, is that if something horrible is going to happen at Hogwarts it’s going to be me hanging from the chandeliers, and two, sometimes finding yourself requires you being okay with yourself as you are… and that can take more effort than any class.”

Ron furrowed his brows. “When did you get so wise, Neville?”

Neville smirked. His face became serious. “My mother and dad… they were tortured by Bartemius Crouch, Jr., Rabastan, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus Lestrange… back at the end of the first war.” Neville’s face was haunted. “They tortured them beyond the point of sanity because… they wouldn’t tell them what they wanted to know. They were strong until the end. Brave… and it didn’t matter. As brave as they were they never recovered. They put their life on the line, but instead of losing it… they live in a half-life now. My mum gives me bubble-gum wrappers as gifts when I visit her at Mungos. Sometimes… briefly, I think they remember me. Sometimes… I see sanity in their eyes, but it chased away by whatever horrors the Death Eaters instilled in them with their torture.

“This year, I think I realised,” Neville said. “I realised that, I’m proud to be their son, and I want to good by them. Maybe become an Auror… but I’m not ready for everyone else to know that, yet. Sometimes, even when you know what you want, it takes time to get there. You shouldn’t feel like you need to know everything just yet. The people who love you will support you anyway. Sometimes… it’s hard to tell that they are. It’s not always obvious. I think Gran lets me fall on my face, despite her better judgement, because she wants me to learn I can get back up again. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me any less.”

Ron looked at Neville with new eyes. He nodded after a while. “Thanks, Neville.”

Neville smiled at him.

The train whistle went off loudly as the train car jolted somewhat, stirring up the car.

Hermione and Harry stirred blearily, rubbing their eyes together in synchronisation.

“Wake up, sleepyheads,” Ron said, chuckling. “King’s Cross Station is coming up.

Harry murmured sleepily into Hermione’s back.

Hermione mumbled into Pigwidgeon’s cage sleepily. The little owl hooted softly to her, rubbing up against the bars as if to encourage her to either get up or go back to sleep, Ron wasn’t sure which.

The stone walls of the station were closing in around the train, and the train was slowing down.

Hermione stretched sleepily and pulled herself up straight.

Cerberus leapt off Ron’s lap like a diving board, causing Ron to wince as he cradled his more delicate male parts from large paws. The dog placed his paws on Hermione’s knees and panted at her.

Hermione stroked the dog on the chin and ears, smiling drowsily. “I miss anything?” she asked sleepily.

Neville and Ron exchanged glances. “Nothing big,” Ron said.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow as she nudged Harry and stuck her finger into Pig’s cage and rubbed the feathers under his beak tenderly. The little owl hooted in appreciation.

Ginny was knocking on the sliding door, gesturing for them to hurry up, a gaggle of other Gryffindor girls were following behind her, giggling and pointing into their train compartment.

Ron shook his head. “Creepy.”

Hermione grabbed her bag and Crookshank’s cage. “I know better than to ask you to write, but feel free to surprise me,” she said with a tilt of her head. Her lips were pressed into a flat line, save for the small quirk of the corners of her mouth.

Ron and Neville gave her an awkward hug, but gave her a hug that made it look like he hadn’t just drooled on her for the past few hundred miles of train track.

“I’ll see you all again soon enough,” she said with a grin. With that, she slipped out the door, her dark robes whooshing behind her as Cerberus trotted dutifully at her heels.

Ron and Neville stared at the drowsy Harry.

“What?” Harry asked blearily.

They shook their head at him as Pidwidgeon started fluttering around his cage like a lunatic.

“It was good while it lasted,” Ron said, picking up Pig’s cage and his smaller suitcase from the top shelf. Time to go home.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Crookshanks!” Hermione gasped. “You horrible thing!”

“Oh, don’t be mad at him, love,” her mother admonished. “I gave him that fish.”

“You gave…” Hermione stopped in mid-tirade. “Alright then. Only one week back and Crooks is already running the house like he’s the King.”

“Didn’t you know, dear?” her mother laughed. “He is the King.”

Crookshanks meowed from his place atop the fireplace, his tail swishing up and down the mantle shelf with lazy flicks.

“I think he’s charmed you and and dad to slave for him and bring him fresh fish at his beck and call,” Hermione said suspiciously.

Cerberus was staring up at the mantle at Crookshanks, training his three heads on the half-Kneazle’s tail with interest.

“Wherever did you find such a fine looking pup, Hermione?” her mother asked.

Hermione smirked, knowing that her parents saw a normal, if a bit large, puppy of some generic breed. “He was wandering around in the woods getting into trouble,” she replied. “My M… professor helped me catch him, and he kind of ended up sticking with us.”

“This professor the same one that is sponsoring your internship this summer back at Hogwarts?” her mother asked.

Hermione nodded.

“Well, I’m glad you’re being so responsible, dear,” her mother cooed. “After that official looking scroll you gave us… I thought you’d brought it from the Queen Herself.”

Hermione smirked. “Not the Queen, no mum.”

“Might as well have been with all those seals stuck to it,” her father said from the den. “Do you need any school supplies for your internship?”

“No, dad,” Hermione answered. “Just the normal school supply list for the following terms.”

Her father grunted. “I’ll be sure to transfer you some funds to your account so you can get your supplies then. You will let us know if there are any unexpected things on the list that may cost more?”

“Sure dad,” Hermione said warmly. “Thank you.” Her parents had no idea that she had already saved up quite a bit from her shared business in the Aerie as well as her business partnership with Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Between both businesses she was doing well, and Viktor, with all of his Quidditch conquests as well as the business, was more than an ample “provider,” and he took great pride in being there for “his vitch.” She did not, however, wish to make her parents think they were not providing for her. They were, as always, trying to support her the best they could in the manner they could best integrate themselves into their magical daughter’s life. While Hermione still felt that there was something terribly missing from her relationship with her birth parents, she was still thankful that they tried to support their daughter the best they could financially, even if they weren’t always the best with the emotional side.

Hermione had found that Crookshanks was actually the magical ambassador to her parents. They were fare more accepting of the subtly magical half-Kneazle because cats and Kneazles were so very much the same. Crooks made even his magical senses seem terribly mundane and ordinary, and that made him a perfect fit in her parent’s minds. It wasn’t, she knew, that they feared her magic. Constant reminders of how their daughter was “different” from them was awkward, so Hermione did her best to ease it for them.

Her parents had actually invited neighbours over for a cookout on the back veranda, and her father had actually displayed a stunning ability to grill over charcoal. His speciality, much to Hermione’s fascination, was something called beer can chicken, which involved perching the uncooked chicken over an open can of beer and cooking the bird over the grill, can and all.

Her father had, apparently, perfected beer brats, perfectly done hamburgers, and stunning kabobs. Hermione found it wonderful. The neighbours were utterly charmed by Cerberus, who was making friends left and right so well that he had gained enough food offerings to feed all three of his heads without any infighting. Many of them tried to guess what breed he was, stating that they would love such a wonderfully well behaved dog. Hermione had coughed, saying his pedigree was sadly unknown. It was partially true, at least. She had no idea who his parents had been.

She could only presume it was probably highly illegal smuggling of a Grecian rare-breed that had somehow ended up in Hagrid’s lap. If anyone could end up with a Grecian three-headed dog pup from some random chappie at a tavern, it was Hagrid. In fact, if any man could get suckered into the middle of some magical creature smuggling fiddle, it was also Hagrid. He was, after all, the one who introduced a non-native species of acromantula into the Dark Forest and then smuggled the illegal spider in a mate to make even more of them loose about the forest.

The cookout, however, had been a refreshing experience. It was entirely Muggle, completely simple, and yet enjoyable. No Death Eaters crashed the party, no one spiked the drinks, and when people got knackered, nothing blew up, turned random shades of heliotrope, or sprouted wings and flew off the table. There was, Hermione realised, something wonderfully comforting in that after the year she’d had thanks to Dolores Umbridge.

Her mother had taken her out shopping in London to a variety of Muggle stores, and Hermione found herself somewhat behind on Muggle fashion. She allowed her mother to tell her which styles were “good” and awkwardly wore the shorts and short-sleeved garments, feeling a bit naked or improper outside of her Apprentice Robes.

Cerberus looked at her quizzically as well, and if a three-headed dog could lift his eyebrows, he was doing his best effort to.

“He looks like he doesn’t recognise you,” her mother had said with amusement as she watched Cerberus’s nose work hard as he sniffed the air, perhaps to figure out why his mistress was dressed funny.

I don’t quite recognise myself, Hermione thought to herself, giving Cerberus a reassuring pat and allowing him to smell that she was, indeed, not an impostor.

Viktor had surprised her by showing up at her parent’s home with a bouquet of flowers and tickets to the Opera. Not only was he dressed in what was a wonderfully flattering Muggle tuxedo, but he came in with enough tickets for both Hermione and her parents to accompany them both to the Opera at the London Royal Opera House as well as transportation to boot.

Hermione, stunned in the extreme, found herself stammering all over herself as her parents looked disturbingly smug, as if Viktor had already planned his appearance in advance and cleared it with her parents by formal inquiry all behind her back.

When her mother brought out a formal dress from her bedroom that was perfectly Hermione’s size, Hermione knew she had been set up, and shot a flustered look at the smug looking simurgh.

“He’s quite the gentleman,” her father said, ribbing his daughter. “I approve of him. He would have my permission, if he were to ask, you know.”

And, as if her father’s ribbing didn’t rile her up enough, Hermione blushed a wonderful shade of crimson as her mother asked if he had proposed yet as she helped her daughter get into her formal dress.

“Mum!” Hermione squeaked her embarrassment.

“I’m just saying, dear,” her mother tutted. “He adores the ground you walk on, his family is wonderfully caring, he already has a career, and you could do worse in life in a few years once you are out of school.”

Hermione cycled through about fourteen shades of crimson as her mother zipped up her gown.

Viktor took her hand and kissed the top of it as he bowed his head, clicking his heels together, and suddenly the old Yule Ball came rushing back to her.

She sank into a curtsy, blushing, as he led her to the Muggle limo waiting to whisk them all away to the Opera House.

It was on this night that Hermione’s wondrous memory failed her. She could, for example, remember the stately pillars of the front of the Opera House that looked like was built in tribute to the Ancient Greek Parthenon, the golden yellow glow of the lights coming from within, and even the deep scarlet curtains that flowed down from the stage. She could not, however, remember what opera that was playing. She could remember the swell of the music and how she felt like she was flying, but if there had been a plot mixed in, which undoubtedly there was, she couldn’t remember what it was. She couldn’t even remember what language they were singing in. She could, however, remember the warm smile that Viktor had given her as his hand closed around hers as they listened to the music. She could remember the deep musk of his scent comforting her in the midst of being surrounded in so many competing and conflicting scents. She could remember the deep reflections in his black eyes as he smiled at her. Everything else, however, was a blur.

Her parents chattered excitedly about how wonderful it had been on the ride home, but Hermione spent the entire ride with her face pressed against Viktor’s shoulder as he drew her against his body. She snuggled against him in the most appropriate in-front-of-your-parents manner, revelling in his scent and the feel of his warmth against her.

Her parents, upon their arrival back at the house, invited Viktor to stay the week. Her father recommended places Hermione could take him to visit since he was in town. Her mother, apparently the fastest guest room preparer on their side of the Atlantic, had it prepared and ready for Viktor before he could even accept the offer to stay. Before he could even say “blagodarya,” Viktor had his hands full of towels, a new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, soap, a set of men’s night clothes, and spare quilt “just in case he got cold.”

Viktor looked at Hermione with some fascination, and it was all Hermione could do to keep from just dragging him into her room and shutting the door right in front of her parents.

At some point in the night, her bedroom door opened, and she heard a soft whine. She leapt off her bed onto all fours, wrestling the simurgh down onto the floor rug just as he managed to squeeze his bulk through the disturbingly too small Muggle doorway.

Hermione’s tail slapped the door closed as they tumbled silently on the floor, wrestling, chewing, rubbing, grooming, preening, and slamming their heads into each other, wings fluttering, and fur and feathers ruffled in multiple directions due to each other’s attentions.

After a few minutes of intense re-acquaintance, the pair of them flopped in the middle of her room, curled up together as they would have in the Lair, bodies and wings intertwined. Cerberus wiggled in between Hermione’s legs, pressing against her warm belly, happy to snuggle against his Mistress the way he was more accustomed to.

Viktor’s teeth nibbled and groomed the feathers on the back of her neck before he snuggled his head against hers, curling his long peacock tail around them both. She snuggled into him with something akin to pure relief as she reached out to her father and Master to share the peace that had descended upon her.

Severus’ mental warmth was the last thing she sensed as the blackness of sleep claimed her at last.

 


	71. Summer Year Five - Unexpected Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's parents gift her something unexpected.

** Chapter 71: Summer - Unexpected Gift **

Viktor sneaked back into the guest room sometime before dawn, but the relief he brought Hermione by having him close for at least part of the night was worth every bit of the shadiness the simurgh managed accomplish right out from under her parent’s nose. Considering that neither a gryphon nor a simurgh were anywhere near small or even compact creatures, it was a miracle he fit his ribcage through the door, let alone his shoulders, wings, and the broadest part of his body.

She considered it a great accomplishment that they hadn’t just slept through the morning together, had her mother come in to check on her, and have her mother discover that her daughter had turned into a monster over night and was cuddling with an equally non-human creature of dubious origins. She had a pretty good feeling that it would not end like it did at Viktor’s parents’ home, where his mother would poke her head in the door, tell them dinner was ready, and not even blink over the fact her simurgh son had found a gryphon girlfriend and they were both tumbling across his bedroom floor in a mock fight. Viktor’s parents, she knew, were unflappable, his mother doubly so.

“Hermione, dear,” her mother called from outside her door, “your breakfast is getting cold. You might want to wake up your friend as well.”

“Coming, mum,” Hermione answered, giving a yawn as she clutched her pillow to her face and stretched. Her fingers stretched as she would splay her talons outward for a good preening, and she gave a soft eagle-like squeak. Viktor’s scent was happily embedded into her skin, and she contemplated the benefits of a morning shower over the scent of her simurgh suitor. Consideration for her parent’s noses won out, and she shuffled into the bathroom to shower, speed brushed her teeth with the efficiency that only one born of two dentists could have, and attempted to remember which drawers her Muggle clothing was in.

Dressing, she made her way barefoot to the guest room door and thunked her head against the door. “Viktor, zakuska,” she mumbled into the door, automatically switching to Bulgarian without realising it.

Viktor opened the door, looking somewhat blearily at her. His arm shot out and dragged her into the room as he embraced her, burying his face into her hair.

“Mmmph,” Hermione managed to say.

Viktor growled softly, his teeth nibbling on her neck.

Hermione shuddered and squeaked in protest, feeling a bit exposed in her parent’s house.

Viktor released her soon after, but his black eyes were shining with his amusement, the part of him that was undoubtedly male seemed to enjoy what he knew he did to her.

Hermione cracked her neck. “Breakfast,” Hermione managed to say, this time in English.

Viktor smirked as he trudged off to the bathroom with his stack of guest towels.

Hermione had the sudden desire to loosen her non-existent collar.

By the time she had trudged downstairs, Crookshanks was already sitting on the kitchen counter, licking his chops, having deigned to eat before everyone else, as was his right as reigning half-Kneazle King of the household.

Cerberus was sitting at the foot of the dining room table, much as he would in the Great Hall, waiting for food to make its way to his allowable area.

Hermione smiled, raiding the fridge for breakfast for the dog, finding the large turkey leg she had set aside for His Slobberiness. She stood in front of him until he laid down and looked up at her, tail wagging. She had him roll over and sit on his haunches before giving him the leg, smiling as his three heads took to tearing it to pieces with enthusiasm.

Her father had already eaten and left for work, but her mother was having a go at playing the hostess, stacking up quite a few pancakes for Hermione and Viktor as well as frying up some eggs. Viktor joined them just as her mother had finished serving up his eggs, and he sat down and dug in gratefully, complimenting her mother on her skill with over easy eggs. Aleksander, he stated, was the only one that could make perfect eggs regardless of style. Petya was banned from trying, Valko was allowed to boil eggs, and Lazar was more of a poached egg sort. Viktor confessed that scrambled eggs were usually what he ended up making, but he did make a pretty mean omelet when given the chance. His mother, he said, made a glorious eggs Benedict, and had taught him how to make some of the traditional Bulgarian egg dishes which somehow involved spiced tomato sauce, cheese, and well… eggs.

Hermione’s mother seemed to enjoy the stories Viktor had of he and his brother’s antics, and it amused Hermione how easily Viktor left out or changed the more magical parts into something more Muggle friendly. His talent in that area amazed Hermione, because she, herself, had problems leaving out the magic in some of her letters home if she wasn’t purposely trying to be careful.

Her mother’s mobile went off just as Hermione and Viktor were finished cleaning up the morning dishes in the sink and putting them away, and her mother seemed genuinely regretful that she had to go into work to give a patient an emergency root canal on the one day Hermione and Viktor were planning to hit up some tourist spots in Britain.

Hermione’s mother handed her an envelope. “Your father and I wanted to give you this in congratulations for your internship, dear. We know you’ve developed a fondness for the wild areas in the last few years, and your father thought you and Viktor would be able to enjoy it together. We meant to give it to you together, dear, but things never seem to work out for us, do they?”

Hermione opened the envelope tentatively and pulled out train tickets to a location just outside a town called Wolverhampton, northwest of Birmingham. The actual location was close to a small village named Badger, surrounded in towns with interesting names such as Bridnorth, Ironbridge, Much Wenlock, and Shrewsbury. Also in the envelope were reservations to a place called The Temple, a historical folly that had been converted into a retreat for no more than two at a time, tucked snugly in the forest and lake areas.

Hermione passed the envelope to Viktor with a smile and flung her arms around her mother. “Thank you so much,” she said with a smile.

Her mother looked at her sadly. “I know we haven’t been… there for you in the way you’ve needed, but we are proud of you. I’ve kept all the letters you’ve written, and I’ve wanted to write back, but every time I’ve tried, I haven’t had a word to say. I know that shouldn’t be an excuse… but when we saw you standing there at the station. Your head held high with confidence. You looked like you had already graduated in those black robes of yours. So dignified. So proper. I knew you had found something special in that school of yours. We may never understand it, but it must truly be something magical, to have brought such passion to your life.”

Hermione held her mother tight. Her parents weren’t much for emotional outpourings ever since she was little, but there were times when, much like this, she remembered how safe she had felt in her parent’s arms once upon a time. There was no pack bond to tell her how her parents were truly feeling. She had to rely on them to tell her, and in this rare and beautiful moment, she knew her mother was proud of her… something she had wanted to be told ever since she had started into grade school, but had always doubted until now.

“You two have a marvellous time,” her mother tutted, brushing Hermione’s shoulders as if to straighten her clothes. “Your father says there had better be a ring on your finger before there is even a hint of grandchildren.”

“Mum!” Hermione squealed, mortified.

Viktor turned a dark scarlet of his own, choosing that moment to stare at a spider on the wall.

“Well I have to go take care of Mr. Jameson’s root canal,” her mother said with amusement, and for a moment it wasn’t too hard to see where Hermione had gotten her impish grin. “No babies until you’re married,” she added for emphasis.

Hermione buried her face into Viktor’s shoulder, trying to hide her growing mortification.

Hermione’s mother dashed out the door, grabbing the keys to the car in her hand as she fled the house. “Don’t forget to lock the doors when you leave, dears.”

Hermione and Viktor remained rooted in place as they watched Mrs. Granger pull out of the driveway and zoom off to the dentist’s office where man was waiting for his root canal. Their eyes slid over to each other as the car disappeared from sight.

Viktor slowly placed the envelope with the generous gift towards their summer holiday on the nearby table, just before the both of them dropped into their animagus forms and chased each other around the living room, bounding over the sofa, leaping over the armchairs, skidding across the poor, hapless floor rugs, and ending up in a panting, heaving, entanglement of wings, legs, paws, talons, and tails. To accent the end result, Cerberus bounded into the fray and flopped on top of them both, mouthing their wings playfully as he mock growled and pawed at their feathered and mane covered necks. Crookshanks snubbed them from atop his perch on the mantle, unimpressed.

:I agree,: Severus’ dry mind voice purred into Hermione’s mind. :There had better not be any pups, cubs, chickubs, chipups, gryphurgs, or simurglets before there is a ring on your finger, daughter, even if Magorian has already volunteered to foal sit for you anytime.:

Hermione flushed red with embarrassment, burying her eagle head under Viktor’s neck, placing her talons over her head to hide herself from view.

Severus’ soft mental laughter turned Hermione ever a darker shade of crimson under her feathers as she felt the soft phantom touch of his hand on her head crest before he pulled away and left her to blush in privacy.

Hermione let out a plaintive eagle squeak for mercy from all of her mischievous parents as Viktor pinned her down and began the tedious process of smoothing all her feathers back into place with his tongue and teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine what Hermione and Viktor’s kids would end up like? I figure if any couple can manage to whelp out a child/simurlets/gryffurgs born into their animagus forms from the start, it would be these two, and somehow, it would be a combination of their animagus forms. Magorian and the herd would adore taking care of them as part of the “herd” and they would definitely be raised by such a rich combination of family/customs that they would not lack for love from any part of their large biological and adoptive families. I can imagine Trefoil dotting on her baby brother or sister with enthusiasm, and having the kids picking up Harry in raccoon form and carrying him around with them everywhere, perhaps dragging him from room to room by his ringed tail. I can imagine werewolf Moonie guarding the simurlets dutifully on each full moon, teaching them the finer art of howling at the moon, and Sirius covered in rambunctious hybrid babies, tugging his ears, jaw, and tail when he was babysitting. Perhaps they would beat the twins at their own pranking games early in life! I can imagine said children riding around on Cerberus like a three-headed dog version of a horse. Ah what a glorious mental image.


	72. Summer Year Five - Important Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Viktor settle into new accommodations.  
> Viktor feels he needs to ask Hermione something before things get too serious.

**Chapter 72: Summer Year Five - Important Questions**

“This place is beautiful,” Hermione breathed softly as she looked out over the surrounded forest and the pond on front of her. The Greek-styled building, large enough for two people to comfortably live, had been renovated within to provide modern conveniences like a full kitchen, dining area, bedroom, and bath.

The front doors led into a cosy sitting room that led to a set of wood and glass doors that opened out into a scenic balcony. A spiral staircase led to the lower ground floor, where a large bedroom looked accommodating enough to support even two overgrown freaks of nature wherever they might wish to sprawl themselves.

When they had checked in to the gate house, the attendant was sure to let them know that, short of themselves, the grounds would closed for the duration of their stay to ensure privacy. If they required anything, they had only come back to the gate house and let them know. The warm natured woman at the gate house handed them a bulging full hamper filled with everything from fresh fruit, jams, teas, coffee, crisps, cookies, sausages, and cereals that would last them far into the week. Hunting and fishing, they said, was allowed, and the licence to do so was prepaid with their accommodations.

The cheerful woman asked if they would be harbouring any pets for the duration of their stay, and Viktor politely answered, there would be at least one overgrown dog and an over-sized feline with “an identity crisis.” The woman chuckled and nodded, saying pets were not a problem, but provided them with an extra basket of pet care products such as biscuits, brushes, and lint rollers. The gate-keeper seemed particularly amused by Viktor’s Bulgarian accent, and he turned on all of his Quidditch charm to snag an extra hamper of preserved meats and other tasty foods to take with them.

Hermione couldn’t help but snicker as Viktor’s skill with charm reminded her so much of his mother. He knew exactly when to tilt his head just so and command attention without seeming like he was. He had perfected the art into flawless execution, and Hermione’s grin just became larger and larger.

By the time they had excused themselves to pass through the two heavy iron gates to go up the trail to the accommodations, the both of them were carrying two heavy laden hampers of “everything you could imagine” which even included laundry soap and herbal sachets for the bath. They had even given Cerberus a doggy pack, and filled it his own things, such as brushes, treats, and bowls, all provided on the house. The three-headed pup, much like Viktor, knew exactly how to manipulate his audience, and Hermione wondered if the three-headed miscreant had been learning too many things from the Slytherin and Durmstrang side of the family.

Viktor had already swatted a number of tasty looking fish out onto the bank after literally ploughing into the water on all fours, getting water everywhere. Cerberus helped drag the slippery fish to where Hermione had started to put wood into the pre-made fire pit, and she appreciated not having to dig her own on this occasion.

Cerberus tongue lolled happily by his growing number of plundered fish before rushing back to the shore to grab more of them. Viktor was lurking in the pond like an alligator, with only his head showing just enough out of the water that he could breathe and see over the surface.

Hermione used the filleting knife to scale the fish, carefully gutting them. She rinsed out the guts and pan-fried them as she set about finishing the scaling. She skewered each fish and set them above the coals as Aleksander had taught her, and seasoned them with Valko’s seasoning for game fish, which, oddly, she never left home without.

By the time Viktor pulled his soggy self out of the pond, jaws carrying a snapped up common pochard who had the misfortune to swimming by the simurgater, Hermione had finished spearing all the fish and frying up the guts for the hungry three-headed menace.

Cerberus set about eating up the goodies with gusto, tail wagging as all three heads took turns gobbling from the large metal bowl they had scored from the gate house hospitality desk.

Viktor took a knife from the side of the fire pit and skinned the duck, carefully removing all the feathers in tact. All of the feathers would be useful to their centaur allies, and he was careful to make sure they were preserved as to not waste anything. He spread the skin out, tying it out to air dry in shape before gutting the duck. Then, much like Hermione before him, he sorted through the innards for the edibles, washed them, and tossed them into the waiting frying pan. He coated the outside of the duck with seasoning and put it on its own skewer, placing it higher over the heat to slow cook with both the heat and smoke.

He washed his hands off and stirred the contents of the frying pan until it started to smell done. He fished out the cooked heart from the pan and extended it to Hermione with a smile. Hermione, too much at home with her gryphon self to be squeamish over the offering, gently took his gift into her mouth and made it disappear. He grinned at her, taking the gizzard from the frying pan and claiming it for himself before dumping the rest into Cerberus’ bowls. The happy dog dutifully set forth in disposing of the edible bits with happy tail wags.

The two of them cuddled together as the food cooked, talking very little, but enjoying each other’s company in their human forms, which had become quite the rarity over their more accustomed animagus forms. They ate their fish off the skewers with amusement, boggling that it took longer to eat as a human than a gryphon or a simurgh. Cerberus seemed to eye them both curiously, as if pondering why they were taking so long to eat. Every so often, however, the pup was rewarded with tidbits off their fingers, so the three-headed dog wasn’t complaining overly much.

After stuffing themselves utterly silly, Viktor stuffed the remains into the provided fridge, and they proceeded to bank up the fire in the fireplace and settle in the bed snuggled into each other as humans.

“Feels kind of strange, doesn’t it?” Hermione murmured as Viktor nibbled on her neck.

“Mmm?” he answered her, pressing his nose into the space behind her ear.

“Cuddling together,” Hermione said. “As a human.”

“Mmmph,” he answered her, pulling her against his chest with a grunt.

His warmth travelled down her body in a rush under the quilt, and his hand gently ran down her skin under the covers, sending little thrills of pleasure down every nerve of her body. Her teeth chattered together like an echo of her beak clacking together. She arched her back, and he moved against her like a great sea leviathan rising up from the water of ancient seas. He moved over her, laying her on her back as his mouth covered hers.

She let out a soft moan as his lips worked down her jawline and down her neck, teeth grasping the soft skin of the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her hands grasped the back of his head, pulling him against her, closer and closer.

Viktor let loose a soft reverberating growl, his teeth bared as his eyes reflected the firelight, the flickering flames danced across his irises.

Hermione’s hands clenched upon his back, her nails digging into the smoothness of his skin.

Viktor moved over her, his dark eyes met hers. “I fear I must ask something before can continue,” he said with a low rumbling growl that threatened to take every bit of coherency out of Hermione’s brain. Hermione could barely feel that he was struggling for control, something he rarely had trouble with in all the time she had known him.

“Yesss?” she answered, breathing into his ear heavily.

“Be my own,” he whispered, his voice a half growl, his teeth seemed longer, sharper. “Be my mate. Swear to you, be loyal. Be provider. Be there for you in times of need. Be there for you in sickness. Health. Happiness and sorrow. Stand by your side till dying breath. Swear no other vitch but you. Rest of life. This one and next.”

Tears flowed down Hermione’s cheeks as she looked into Viktor’s dark eyes. His black irises reflected everything and at the same time swallowed her up with the torrent of his emotion, devotion, and and unquestioning loyalty. There was so much faith in her behind his eyes. Loyalty to his pack and to her… his unwavering desire to protect what was closest to him combined with his need to have them close. And beyond that was understanding. He understood her. He knew her devotion to protect her “cherished ones.” He knew her ferocity in protection of both him and her pack and her friends. He knew the icy touch of her ruthlessness and the heat of her passion. And perhaps, most important of all, he understood how important Severus was in her life… so much so, that he had asked Severus for permission long before he asked the question of her biological father and then her. So many things he knew that made up the witch that was Hermione Granger, and he loved them all enough to bind himself to her.

Hermione’s palms pressed against his cheeks, and she wove her fingertips through his hair, which was starting to resemble his thick black fur. “Da, Viktor,” she whispered, emotion causing her voice to waver. “I would be your mate. In this life and the next.”

Viktor’s responding growl was low and primordial. He pressed his teeth to her neck and bit down, marking her skin and her aura with the undeniable touch of his fangs. Hermione clutched his back, as he moved on top of her, and their auras combined, carrying each of them into the torrent of each other’s emotions as their magic came together and merged as the sea swallowed all.

They lay there, staring into the firelight, entwined together as though it had always been so. Viktor’s soft rumbling purr-like growl caused her eyes to flutter. She felt him, the awareness of him, deep within her mind. His contentment washed over her in a tangible warmth.

:There still should be a ring,: Severus’ amused mind voice reached her in her groggy haze.

Hermione was struggling to think of a reply when Viktor’s mental voice replied, :I swear it shall be done.:

:MASTER?: she squeaked, mortified. :VIKTOR?:

:Congratulations, my daughter. On your engagement,: Severus purred through the connection.

Hermione’s face flushed dark crimson as Viktor’s lips pressed down upon hers and Severus’ mental laughter left her to her very embarrassed thoughts.

“Good thing not my mother,” Viktor said as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Mother would never let live down. Master at least withdraw and give privacy.”

Hermione flushed again, not sure whether to be thankful for small and large favours such as that, or more mortified that her Master and her mate now shared mental residence in her mind and with each other. She opened and closed her mouth rapidly, doing her best imitation of a goldfish.

Viktor pressed his finger to her lips. “Is great honour, this gift,” he said softly. “To know mind of Master is to be closer to you.”

Hermione clutched Viktor closer to her chest, pressing her face into the warmth of his neck. “ _Obicham te_ ,” she whispered into his ear.

“I love you too,” Viktor replied in English, pulling her against him once more as he tugged the quilt over them both. “ _Vinagi_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa… whoa… 2 updates on one day. That’s what happens when they are so small! (well small being relative… technically 300-500 words or a drabble would be small compared to 2k) Vinagi, BTW, means “always” in Bulgarian. Some of you clever folks in Slytherin may have already figured that out! In celebration of this event, I am going to light a candle and turn myself into a raisin in the bathtub, doing my best simurgater impression. Sound good? I think so! See you next chapter!


	73. Summer Year Five - Still Need a Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione teaches the three-headed pup the ways of the hunt.  
> Fred and George learn a little about Hermione and Viktor from the Sky Brothers.

**Chapter 73: Summer Year Five - There Should Still Be a Ring**

As promised to her Father and Master, Viktor produced a ring as the early morning fog rolled off the pond and surrounded the small cottage they were residing in. Hermione wasn’t sure where he got it from, if he had crafted it, or if it had fallen from the sky in some divine sign from the Powers That Be that her fate was never hers to begin with.

The ring was crafted in the semblance of a winged beast with a jewel in its jaws. The jewel was strange, as if it defied being identified. Its colour shifted as she looked at it, as if daring her to define it. The inside of the ring was carved into the relief of scales, unseen unless the ring was taken off. It was, she admitted, a very Slytherin tactic. The ring wrapped around her finger like it was hugging her, growing warm to her touch as though it were alive. A part of her wondered if it too was charmed like many of the things Viktor made, and would come to life at any given moment and bite anyone who dared try to take it off.

The ring, he said, he had charmed so it would be visible only to the pack until the time is was more safe to be otherwise. His parents would take great pride in planning the official announcement, and Hermione admitted that she would rather leave it to his formidable mother to see to when it was “appropriate.” While she was of legal age to be legally married, they both agreed that their commitment to each other required no ceremony considering their magic had practically merged them together, and the ceremony could wait for after her graduation, or at least the defeat of the Dark Lord, whichever came first.

Viktor had commented that, if anyone wished to challenge the depth of his commitment, he would gladly rip off their faces with his teeth.

Hermione had replied she would rather him at least use a wand, if possible, because she preferred to kiss the face that hadn’t just ripped off someone else’s. She wasn’t sure how much toothpaste it would require to counter facial murder, but she was pretty sure it was a lot.

Viktor had, begrudgingly, agreed.

Hermione felt a new kind of warmth in her mind now that both Severus and Viktor were in the back of her awareness, bound to her in the familiar way that she had come to rely on, and in Severus’ case in so many more ways than comfort. Having Viktor’s presence there was was like adding a warm quilt on a chilly evening, increasing a sense of warmth that she didn’t realise she was missing until it found her wanting. A part of her realised what a gift she had been given, having two of the most important people in her life so close to her thoughts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t value Draco significantly, because if she valued anyone outside of her bond with Severus, it had been her brother. Draco and herself had an understanding that didn’t need words. In many ways, they didn’t need help meeting up halfway, and at the start of her relationship with Severus, they had both desperately needed the bond to keep themselves from a thousand misunderstandings a day. Back then, her feelings were hurt at the drop of a feather, and Severus was the one that could bring her down the fastest from any good mood she had ever had.

The bond had been essential to her survival as his Apprentice, and how it had formed was still a mystery. It may have been the Apprentice bond, but both of them doubted that explanation. It hadn’t formed the moment he took her into his service. It had happened some time after… something had shifted between them, and the bond rushed into the empty spaces that they hadn’t even realised they had, binding them together irrevocably. Perhaps, she mused, they really were fated to be so.

Viktor’s claiming her as his mate and her willing acceptance had been a conscious bond, but somehow in doing so, whether by the magic of the pack bond or their strong ties to their animagus forms, or some combination therein… as they had become one in mind, it had linked her mate to her Master as well. Once she got over her initial mortification over it, she realised that she felt a great peace come over her having their combined warmth so close. It gave her the courage she didn’t always believe herself capable.

People had always said her stubborn bravery had come from being Gryffindor, but the truth was that she was brave because of her Master never failing to be there for her. He had never failed to be there to help her back up from her mistakes, and even when he loathed to do so, never failed to listen to her teenage woes and offer practical guidance. If anything, her bravery had been because the most Slytherin of them all, and that was a truth she knew would break a few minds coming and going.

Hermione took that moment to snuggle into Viktor’s warm back, this time engaging in some role reversal by pressing her teeth into his neck and putting a mark of her own upon his warm skin. The tethers of their fledgling bond shuddered between then, and Viktor growled softly, his arms moving under the covers as she wrapped herself around him like a giant sea leviathan.

Hermione nuzzled into him, gently giving the place she had marked him an affectionate lick, pressing her nose into his hair, which was starting to change into the furred mane of his simurgh form.

He captured her hands and drew them against his chest, kissing them softly, his fingers traced the ring upon her finger and a thrum of his warmth trembled through her mind.

“Best holiday ever,” Hermione mumbled into his neck.

“Agree,” Viktor murmured into her hands, pulling her closer to him like she was a backpack.

Viktor had been a gentle lover, curious as to what gave her pleasure and willing to do nothing more than she was comfortable with. She, in turn had done much the same. The end result had them missing breakfast. Hermione wasn’t sure what time it was, but she was pretty positive they had missed lunch too.

Cerberus placed his heads on the side of the bed and whimpered slightly, tail wagging.

“Oh!” Hermione said apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Cerberus!”

She leapt out of the warmth of the quilt and pulled on her dressing gown, scurrying up the spiral staircase to let the poor pup out to do his business.

Hermione could almost sense the pup’s relief as he emptied his bladder over an unfortunate flowering shrub. She rubbed his head apologetically as he returned to her, licking her hands as if to say it was okay.

A rustling caught her attention

A fallow deer was sneaking out in the far field, and it smelled… delicious.

Mouth already watering, she was on all fours and crouched down to the ground. Cerberus, sensing a lesson, crouched down with her. Normally, Hermione would have been in the air and landing on the prey from above, but Cerberus was grounded, so the lesson had to be adjusted.

Viktor’s interest perked from within the bond, and he had landed beside them within moments, crouching down with excitement for the hunt.

Cerberus followed them, foot by foot, as they crept in range of the grazing deer. Viktor moved around towards the opposite side, positioning himself to block retreat or drive it towards them, depending on how the wind shifted. Hermione moved Cerberus behind, staying downwind of the deer’s senses. The hunt from the ground was infinitely more complicated to those such as they, since they were used to flushing and approaching their prey from the air in a flash of movement. Teaching the pup how to hunt from the ground was important, not just in a survival sense if he got caught out in the wilds, but also for the purpose of hiding himself from enemies. That which hunted could, in turn, be hunted, and teaching the pup would help keep him sharp to such changes.

The wind shifted, and suddenly the deer was running towards them, the wind having given away Viktor’s scent to the deer. Hermione knew whatever Viktor smelled like to the deer, it was not “safety.” He was an apex predator in the peak of health, and the deer… was prey.

The deer bolted towards them and Hermione gave a chirp, signalling Cerberus to go, and they took off running to meet it. The deer zigzagged in an attempt to dodge, but Hermione went one way, and Cerberus the other, blocking its way. The deer turned around and bolted back towards Viktor, and seemed to realise that was a bad decision as it veered off across the clearing.

Hermione snapped at the deer’s leg, her beak tripping it up. It stumbled slightly, but recovered. Cerberus snapped, each of his heads attempting to grapple onto something, and one succeeded, causing the deer to stumble.

Viktor slammed into the deer with his body jaws clamping on the deer’s neck as he went tumbling over it. Hermione’s talons splayed out and caught the deer’s front legs, cranking them down towards the ground, and Cerberus snapped his multiple jaws on the underside of the deer’s throat, attempting his best to get a strangle hold.

Hermione’s back legs pulled back like pistons, claws extended, and they raked across the deer’s belly as Viktor’s jaws crunched down, snapping its spine. The deer was was dead, but Cerberus kept his grip on the deer’s throat, determined to hold on until the last of its movements were done.

Both Viktor and Hermione released their hold, flopping on each other as they regained their breath. A few minutes later, Cerberus finally released his grip upon the deer, panting heavily as he too caught his breath.

Hermione stuck her beak into the carcass and found the tenderloin and the heart, pulling it free from the insides and offered them to Viktor with a chirp. The simurgh lapped her face with his tongue before taking the offering in his mouth and padding over a distance to begin systematic devouring of said things.

Hermione went into the cavity again and pulled out the liver and kidneys, tugging them free, and offering them to Cerberus with her beak, looking ever so much like the mother eagle feeding her chicks.

Cerberus tail wagged and took the offering happily, sharing the meat with all three heads.

Hermione took her sharp beak and set to surgically cutting the carcass into pieces, pulling a haunch off to tear into it. She gulped down pieces of meat until her stomach finally sent the signal to her brain that she was no longer starving. Viktor had started working on the opposing haunch after polishing off her earlier offering, and the simurgh was licking his chops of blood as his own hunger eased.

Hermione excised the rump from the rest of the carcass, leaving some of the spine intact and gave it to Cerberus to work on. The pup ecstatically pounced on the offering and set forth to drag it back to the cottage as he straddled it, in some strange semblance of a leopard dragging an impala under itself.

The carcass from the ribs up, however, was still uneaten, and neither Hermione or her mate were the wasteful sort. Hermione rubbed up against Viktor as he straddled the carcass. He nuzzled her gently as she trotted up the path towards the cottage as the crack of his disapparation signalled his departure.

He had returned shortly after she made her way back to the cottage, whining and nuzzling up against her, wings fluttering against his body in appeal to forgive him for leaving, even if it was to deliver the carcass to their allies as to not waste the food.

Hermione made like Crookshanks, snubbing him, turning her head away from him. She couldn’t hide her mischief through the bond for long though, and Viktor growled, pouncing on her, licking her face, cleaning the meal’s blood off her feathers and fur.

Hermione eagle-squeaked, squirmed, and preened her mate in return, and they flopped together, sprawling out in the sun.

Cerberus crunched noisily on the last of the deer carcass, taking his time to extract every bit of nutrients off the bones he had been given. Hermione gave a mental chuckle, sending Viktor the mental image of some poor Muggle bloke wandering in on them and seeing “monsters” sunning themselves after what could have only been the murder of “that nice young couple with the man with the accent” and their “faithful dog, having been so starved, set about eating his owners’ remains.”

Viktor’s mental laughter was thick in his mind as he wrestled her down and snuggled into her, enjoying the sun with her as their meal digested.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You sure you want to do this, Albus?” Alastor grunted as he brought him into containment chamber. “They went through a lot of trouble getting it here. I don’t see them being very happy that you want to take off with one of them, even if it is to run tests on it.”

“I’ll be fine, Alastor,” Dumbledore said. “The sooner we find a way to destroy them, the better, and I can’t very well throw everything I have at it down here.”

The Auror looked at Dumbledore with a frown. “I suppose, Albus, but I’d be much more comfortable if you had someone else with ya when you did.”

“We need to find a way to destroy them, Alastor,” Dumbledore said. “If they are what I think they are, all the more so.”

“And what do you think they are?” Moody asked. “Other than nigh impossible to destroy.”

“I have my theory,” Dumbledore said obscurely. “I won’t know until I do more tests.”

Moody shook his head dispelling the outer wards so he could walk in without setting off the fiendfyres. “I don’t like it, Albus. Not one bit.”

“I understand, Alastor,” Albus said softly. “But it is the only way.”

Alastor grimaced. “Your obfuscation is getting to be even more annoying, Albus. Surely you can trust your own Order with the knowledge. We’re all on the same side.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were unreadable. Clearly not.

Moody scoffed. “Have it your way then,” he muttered, placing his hand on the pedestal where the ring was and carefully lifting the box the ring was in off it. The skeleton of the mouse that had died within the ring was still attached. Moody held it out to Dumbledore.

Albus closed his hand around the box, closing it and tucking it away in his robe. “Thank you, Alastor,” he said at last, turning on his heels and disappearing up the corridor.

“You’ll keep us informed, won’t you?” Moody barked to Dumbledore’s back.

Silence was his only answer.

Moody heard the far corridor door open and close and closed his eyes. He traced his finger in an intricate design on the side of the pedestal and a hidden panel slid open. Inside was the real ring Hermione and Draco had retrieved from Gaunt’s Hut. “You were right, Severus,” Alastor said with a grunt.

He closed the sliding panel and felt the concealment wards and locking mechanism fall back into place. “You were right,” Moody repeated into the air before he started his hobble back out of the chamber, slamming the outer containment wards back into place.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I need to know if anyone else knows about this,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to the ring on the desk.

“Of course other’s know about this, Albus,” Severus hissed. “The entire Order knows about ‘this.’ It was obtained while you were away. We had not heard from you in weeks, and we all made the decision to throw it into containment, which you are doing a horrible service in walking the bloody thing right out of where it was safe.”

Dumbledore looked conflicted. “This is no ordinary ring.”

Severus gave the Headmaster his most dark equivalent expression of “well duh.”

“This could do it,” Albus muttered. “It could bring them back.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore was muttering to himself, probably not even realising he was. He kept silent, hoping for more a clue of what might be going on in the elder wizard’s mind. He was never sure how much of his befuddled demeanour was true. Albus kept his cards closer to himself than any Slytherin, and at times, he wondered if the man was no more Gryffindor than Severus’ socks.

“I need to be sure…” Albus muttered. “It has to be it. It must be. The sign is there.”

Severus’ mind worked quickly. The symbol was important. He extended his senses towards his Apprentice. :Daughter.:

:Father?: she replied almost immediately.

:Have you found anything on that symbol on the ring?: he asked.

:Well, either the ring was a symbol of a sect of the Illuminati, a precursor to the symbol for Alcoholics Anonymous, Father,: Hermione replied. :Or… it’s the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The last, of course, being the one that seems spot on:

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. :The wand, the stone, and the cloak of invisibility, gifted by Death to three brothers Peverell, who in the end all returned to Him.:

:Yes, my Master,: Hermione answered him.

:Question is,: Severus speculated. :Is the stone the actual item, or some tribute jewelry to some long, lost, legend?:

:With respect, Master,: Viktor’s voice joined the conversation. :Unlikely something so evil created on some… ordinary trinket.:

Snape’s eyes narrowed. :Why would the Dark Lord give up a Deathly Hallow? Turning it into a Horcrux would make it unable to be used… why?:

Silence answered him for a moment.

:Perhaps,: Viktor said. :Did not know what he had. Who amongst today… truly believe tales of Children’s books?:

Hermione’s mental thoughts solidified. :What if he truly didn’t know? I mean… I didn’t know until I went searching for it. The boy who became the Dark Lord… would he he have even known what he had having never heard the stories?:

Snape’s thoughts settled on this. “It is possible that… the stone requires someone to truly wish for someone to be alive… to manifest power. Otherwise… it would just be a stone, as common as the rock from a riverbed.:

:Like the legend,: Hermione said.

:Just like the legend,: Severus answered. :Are you two settled back in the Lair?:

:Yes, my Master,: Hermione answered.

:I think we need to refocus our search for magical artifacts that could easily be overlooked for their magical properties in favour for their physical attractiveness,: Severus said. :Perhaps, just like the ring, the items weren’t chosen because they were magical. Perhaps they were taken because it pleased him to take it.:

:The chalice, the crown, and the lantern?: Hermione asked.

:It would have to be something local to this area,” Severus speculated. :Something personal… but not for any emotional reason. Think of conquest… perhaps what would offend the most people… whether they knew it or not.:

:Yes, Master,: Hermione replied.

:Daughter,: Severus said. :It may not be a lantern, focus on the other two until we are sure.:

:It shall be done,: she replied, fading out of the conversation.

:Viktor?: Severus added.

:Yes, Master?: Viktor’s mind voice replied.

:Thank you for bringing my Daughter home safely,: Severus said softly.

:My duty and honour, Master,: Viktor replied. :No thanks, necessary.:

:Be that as it may,: Severus replied. :I thank you all the same.:

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Fred and George clutched their heads as Aleksander and Lazar alternated with Valko and Petya in invading their minds. Sweat and tears combined as they relieved the happiest and worst memories of their lives in random order.

“Is okay, you know,” Lazar said warmly. “Don’t have to succeed immediately.”

Fred rubbed his temples as Lazar gave them both drinks. The twins nodded their thanks as they slumped in the nearby armchairs.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by the Knight Bus,” George grunted.

“Be glad it is us drilling you,” Aleksander said with a smirk. “Viktor and Hermione… no so kind.”

“You call this… kind?” George groaned. “I just relived every punishment mum ever put me through.”

Valko chuckled softly. “Ve are gentle, in comparison. Viktor and Hermione… dhey see the result of failure too clearly. To dhem… one slip is death. In front line, always.”

Fred and George frowned. “Is it really had horrible?”

“Is for all of us, friends,” Aleksander said sadly. “Ve are… simply more tolerant in teaching. Drugar… and sestrá, dhey are in front lines and defend us always. Never allowed to… put guard down.”

Fred seemed to be confused by the oddly accepted pecking order. “Why are they in the front? I mean… Viktor is older, I can see him as a leader, but why Hermione?”

Petya smirked. “Ve are just birds of a feather,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Our natures are assist, support, and obey. Dhey are beasts of fury and retribution. Their natures are to defend and protect what is theirs till their dying breath.”

“You make it sound like they are monsters,” George said sullenly.

Valko’s mouth quirked slightly. “To some… they are Death Himself, come to drag them to the Abyss.”

Fred and George shook their heads, not seeing their pseudo-little sister in quite a merciless light. They knew Hermione was capable, with little doubt, but the image the Durmstrang brothers were giving them painted an image of her turning into a slavering beast with no mercy or regard. Neither of them could see that easily when the memory of her warm smile was usually the first thing they remembered.

George frowned. “Are they really the ones always protecting you?”

Aleksander smiled. “Not always, ne,” he said. “Ve all take turns supporting each other. Is way we vork. But, when times of battle, and family threatened, dhose two… always front… always defend. No matter who come.”

“Does not mean ve helpless,” Lazar sniffed, drinking his latest concoction from his glass. “Even bird has claws and beak. Take out your eyes.”

Fred and George were torn between horrified and amused expressions, thinking of the small garden robin taking on a Great Dane.

Lazar lifted an eyebrow, making the twins wonder if he could read their mind without a wand. The idea was humbling.

Fred finished his drink. “Why do you call this the Aerie?”

George added, “What’s with the fascination with birds?”

Petya answered without a change in expression, “Dragons harder to fit in store.”


	74. Summer Year Five - The Dark Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco had a birthday, and the only thing his father cared about was making sure he took the Dark Mark.

Chapter 75: The Dark Mark

Agony.

That was the first thing Draco knew as the pain tore through him. Pure. Complete. Agony. It was also the second, third, and fourth thing, and so many numbers untold after that.

He should have sensed it coming. He should have seen it, but his father had held his cards close to his chest the entire summer until now.

He wasn’t sure what was more of a betrayal… that his father looked on as the pain jolted through him… that it was his mother who had come to get him and brought him here…

His mother had at least had the decency to look nervous for him.

The pain shot through every nerve of his body, tearing through his arm and up to his brain, radiating through his chest, and ripping through his ribs as though something would burst through his ribcage and expose his beating heart to the room. He could feel the blackness curling around his body, attempting to seep into his body and corrupt his very soul.

The Dark Mark… Voldemort’s gift. That was his “father’s” birthday present to him. Branding him like some young maverick so the world would know how pure-blooded he was—one of the Dark Lord’s faithful.

Draco screamed, the tendons in his neck bulged outward, his grey eyes were half glazed over in the agony of his body. The blackness. It was everywhere now. Coming closer… closer… swallowing him up like the seas of a maelstrom. He held onto the memory of his sister’s embrace, the fold of her wings, the scent of her feathers and fur. He clung to the feeling of his godfather’s warm embrace, the quirk of his lips in a shade of a smile, and the softest touch of his hand on his head.

“Can’t, can’t,” Draco chanted. “Never, never, mine, never, never, never!”

The pain came again, this time harsher than before, and Draco let out a baleful howl that sounded straight from throat of the werewolf Moony, anguished and mournful. Foam flecked from Draco’s mouth.

Draco’s mother gasped. “He’s been bitten.”

As if to prove his mother’s guess, Draco’s teeth bared, and he snarled like an animal. “Kill you. Kill. Kill.. Kill you.” Draco growled. “Eat… your… heart,” he hissed, his voice twisted into something inhuman. If there had been sanity in Draco’s eyes, it had long since fled. The sounds he was making were not meant to come from a human throat. Drool dripped from his mouth as he leapt towards his antagonist, his hands formed into half claws as though he were going to rip them both to pieces.

“CRUCIO!” Lucius bellowed, and Draco went flying backwards in pain.

“Stop it!” Narcissa clung to Lucius’ arm. “That is our SON!”

“Who refused to take the Dark Lord’s gift!” Lucius yelled. “When the Dark Lord marks the others who have come to age, he will expect him to be there!”

“Kill,” Draco snarled from his place crouched in the corner. His eyes showed no sign of recognition.

“And you think he will be good to him like this?” Narcissa screeched.

Draco’s head moved to eye Narcissa and gave a chilling growl.

“Did you have Fenrir bite him?” Narcissa screamed at him. “Did you turn our own son… into a beast?”

Lucius held out his wand again at Draco. “He will take the mark! He must!”

“Enough, Lucius,” a cold voice said from the doorway.

Lucius and Narcissa’s heads went up with a snap of surprise. A Death Eater in their full regalia stood in the doorway. Tall. Arrogant. The gold and silver mask of a beast-like skull stared down at them. Bone-like fingers stretched out over their black robes, almost skeletal. The pits of their eyes were so dark, they looked like the sockets of a true skull.

“The Dark Lord wants the faithful and the fanatical, not failures,” the Death Eater intoned coldly. There was no emotion at all.

“I have the right to punish my son as I see fit,” Lucius snarled, showing more bravado perhaps than one caught torturing his son in the basement of his own manor should.

“By all means, punish,” the figure said coldly, voice so inhuman that it did not even register male or female. “But do not delude yourself that it is for the Dark Lord for which you do.” The hollow pits of the Death Eater’s eyes focused on Lucius, and Lucius saw something there that that was ominous and threatening. It was power without compromise. It was merciless time crushing down on mortals below. “The Dark Lord wishes your… company, Lucius. Shall I tell him you are too busy… torturing your own flesh and blood?”

Lucius and Narcissa paled.

“No…” Lucius said, “I will attend.” He grasped Narcissa’s arm and pulled her with him out the door, not bothering to look to the corner where his son slavered and foamed. “I no longer have a son,” Lucius said coldly, causing Narcissa to wail as he pulled her along with him, jerking her arm to get to her follow him.

The Death Eater stared at Draco as he approached. Draco leapt at him, clawing at him mindlessly, growling, hissing, and snapping his teeth together. “My apologies, Draco,” the Death Eater said, grasping Draco on the back of the neck, holding him tightly in a paralytic grip. “I fear it’s time for you to go home.”

CRACK.

They were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione’s heart was breaking as Draco clung to her body, burying his head into her hair and sniffing as he clung to her.

“Sister, sister, sister,” he said into her robes. He clung to her with his hands, stroking her robes, her hair, and her face. “Sister,” he repeated again. His eyes were haunted beyond anything she had ever seen.

She stroked his hair, pulling her to him, rocking him, and Draco finally calmed, breathing heavily against her body. “What happened to him, Master Desmondon?” She lay Draco down on the bed and covered him with a quilt.

Valko rushed up and sat with Draco, making sure he did not wake to the unfamiliar. Hermione touched them both, stroking Valko’s arm as she did with Draco. Her face was haunted.

“You were right to be worried, Apprentice Granger,” Desmondon said, pulling the beast-like skull mask off his face, revealing his almost equally feral face. He bared his fangs, but it was not a threatening gesture. “I fear your Master was, as you both predicted, occupied entertaining the Dark Lord. Lucius… wished to encourage his son to take the Mark sooner rather than later, to be an example of his faithfulness. I did not arrive in time to stop him from the chain of Crucio.”

“His own son…” Hermione said, making a fist. “His own flesh and blood.” She stood up from where Draco was finally sleeping, and paced.

“The Dark Lord inspires insanity in both himself and his followers,” Desmondon said lowly. “The longer one is with him, one either realises this and can break free… or becomes one with it.”

“And which are you, Master Desmondon?” Hermione asked sadly.

“I wait for the levelling of the board,” the vampire said with a brief show of his fangs. “That I and my people might feast upon the losers.”

Hermione looked grim.

“Fear not, Apprentice Granger,” Desmondon said softly. “You and yours need not fear our fangs from me and mine. We owe you a debt of lives for warning us of the raid that threatened our Colony a moon ago. We will not forget this kindness easily in the times to come.”

Hermione looked to where Valko was tending Draco and nodded.

Desmondon put his bony fingers to her chin and lifted face up to his. “Look into my eyes, child.” He scanned her face, eyes flicking across her features. He seemed to be evaluating something. He released her chin after a minute and broke gazes. He pulled out a vial of some sort of potion from his robes. He unstoppered it, and then bared his fangs, pressing one of his fingers to the tip. A scarlet drop of blood pooled on his fingertip and he dripped it into the flask and he shook it. “Mix your tears and a drop of your blood within this flask. Two drops under the tongue of your friend. Only two. If the bond is true between you, he will recover. I give you this… for saving my mate from the fires.”

Hermione took the flask with reverence. “Thank you, Master Desmondon.”

“Severus chose well in you, Apprentice Granger,” the vampire said. “Not many have the nerve to stand before a vampire and treat them with respect. Will you keep to our agreement? Or disappoint me like so many others before you?”

Valko looked at her, concerned, his worry through the pack bond rang in her mind. Hermione waved to him, nodding in reassurance.

“I will keep my promise you to, Master Desmondon,” Hermione replied. “You brought Draco out of the Manor in one piece. I will hold to our agreement.”

The vampire regarded her with narrowed eyes. “You are either very brave or very foolish. I wonder, then, which you are?”

“Perhaps both, Master Desmondon,” Hermione replied.

“Perhaps,” the vampire said. “But a debt is a debt, Apprentice Granger, and I would see you live a long mortal life.” His fangs flashed, and he was upon her neck in an instant, sinking his fangs into her neck. His arm cradled her back as he very gently laid her back against the armchair while taking her blood at the same time.

Hermione’s eyes fluttered, and he brushed her hair back from her face as he licked his teeth, pulling back from her with a hiss. Pressed his finger to his fangs and pressed up, piercing his fingertip once more. He smeared the blood on his fingertips and pressed them to her neck. The wounds on her neck closed and faded. “The price is paid,” he said formally. “Your life your own.”

“True honour is rare amongst your kind,” Desmondon said softly. “I would see you spread it rather than snuff your life out as some would wish to do, even if it were not for the life debt we share.

“You may tell your Master, young one, that his debt to me is paid in full. He may call on me as an equal… or a friend… whichever he prefers.”

Hermione shivered, and the master vampire pulled a quilt from the nearby chair to cover her.

Viktor walked in the room, his eyes went to Draco, to Valko, to Hermione, and then to the master vampire who was standing over his mate. A hundred different responses flashed across the simurgh’s face in rapid succession.

“Be at peace, wizard,” the master vampire said, spreading his bony fingers in appeasement. “Our agreement settled. Payment for services… accepted. May there be no malice between us.”

Viktor tilted his head, as if listening to something no one else could hear, and then his body relaxed. He bowed his head to Desmondon before rushing to his mate’s side, touching her skin.

“Make sure she drinks her fill of water twice over for the next few hours,” Desmondon said in a soft voice. “Though I am sure her Master will give her something appropriate upon his return from the Dark Lord’s… party.”

Viktor nodded. “My people… not used to parlay with… vampires,” he confessed. “Vill admit to worry for her sake, despite previous agreement. Happy… to be wrong.”

The master vampire shook his head. “You have good reason to fear for our lack of honour, much as we have good reason to fear lack of yours. Our peoples… have rarely had good relations… throughout history. But… Master Snape has never treated us… as though we were inhuman or instruments for conquest, even when some of us are undoubtedly so. You are to his credit that you do not let your instincts overrun your judgement.”

“I have given your mate a mixture,” Desmondon said. “When she is strong enough, she will know what to do to help young Draco. It is the only thing I can offer that may help him.”

Viktor nodded.

Desmondon placed the mask upon his face once more, and his demeanour changed to match his appearance. His aura changed into a rush of bitter cold. His dark pit-like eyes stared out of his bestial skeletal mask. “May your mortal life be long, wizard, and your blood strong.” With that the vampire was gone with a crack.

Viktor held Hermione’s hand as she stirred under the quilt. “Viktor?”

“Am here,” he replied softly. “Did as you asked. Came back as soon as I could.”

Hermione clung to him. “His own father tortured him,” Hermione said, emotion hanging on her voice. “What kind of person… his own son?”

Viktor stroked her hair and pulled her close. “Kind of person vho… does not know what have, until loses it.”

Hermione wept against him, sobs wracking her body as the disgust radiated off her combined with the love for her wounded brother, the sorrow, and the rage against the one she knew harmed him.

Suddenly she stiffed, struggling to find something in her robes. She pulled out the flask Desmondon had given her and wiped her tears from her face, dripping them into the flask. She took out her wand and pointed it at her finger and said a word, wincing as blood welled up from a cut on her finger. She held her finger shakily over the flask until a large drop gathered on her finger and dripped into the flask. She closed the flask and shook it, mixing it thoroughly. The fluid inside the flask gave off an unnatural red glow. “I need a dropper. Viktor can you get me one from Severus’ drawer on the desk?”

Viktor leapt up and scurried over to the large desk Severus used to grade his papers. He looked in the drawers, one by one, getting frustrated when none of them had what he was looking for.

Little Vik gave a soft chirp, hovering in the air in front of him, a dropper hanging from his small talons.

Viktor let out his breath, cupping the helpful hippogriff. “Bless you, little one,” he whispered, taking the dropper and moving the hippogriff to his shoulder.

He brought Hermione the dropper, and she nodded her thanks.

She plunged the dropper into the flask and pressed out two drops, making note how far it went down each time, then plunged it in again, filling it exactly to where two drops would measure out. No more, no less.

She stoppered the flask up and placed it on the nearby shelf, carrying the dropper with her to Draco’s side. Valko stirred by his side, his head having rested on his bedside.

Hermione sat beside Draco and cradled her head with her arm, tilting it back. She moved his jaw down to open his mouth and pressed the dropper to deliver the two drops under his tongue.

She carefully placed his head back down on the pillow, her shoulders quaked with emotion as her trembling hand stroked his hair, his cheek, and his arm. She pressed her forehead to his chest, inhaling his familiar freshly mowed bergamont scent. “Brother,” she whispered. “My brother,” she sobbed. “Please, brother… I beg you… fight it. Fight for us… fight for me… Draco, please.”

Valko wrapped his arm around her, pressing close to her, and Viktor took up the other side. They both added their call to hers, weaving their presence in with hers. Cerberus jumped up onto the bed and lay all his heads down on Draco’s chest. They felt Aleksander tending a fire back at the Aerie, Lazar talking with a customer, Petya was tending a smoking fire for some hides he had tanned, Remus was sitting in an armchair in his chambers reading, Minerva was staring over some scrolls in her office while sipping tea… and even Harry and Sirius sitting at Grimmauld Place playing Wizard Chess… the pack song sang between them all, recognising each one, and demanding their presence within the song.

One by one, each added their note to the song. Each member sounded off without words into the symphony, until at last, Severus’ final note resounded within the bond, and the song snapped tight between them, thrumming like the vibration of a tuning fork.

“I am Aleksander of fire. I burn brightest so my brothers and sisters may never be without light or suffer without warmth in the cold.”

“I am Lazar of water. I bring the element of life to all that none may go thirsty.”

“I am Valko of earth. I provide stability for the feet of my comrades that they may never falter in battle.”

“I am Petya of air. I carry the scents and breaths of our brethren to the Four Corners of Creation, that none may forget our names.”

“I am Viktor the Simurgh, Guardian of the Soma Tree, Protector of those who shelter in and under its branches. May those that know me understand the protection of Family that their cherished ones never be without.”

“I am Hermione, Gryphon of Fate, and my cause is righteous and my Family strong. Through me the strands of destiny rise and fall, and the blood of the guilty drips from my claws.”

“I am Remus, wolf of the moon, and through my howl may my pack-mates never know loneliness, always know where Home lies in any direction, and forever know the meaning of Family.”

“I am Minerva the cat, named for the Goddess of Wisdom, and through me may there never be lack of knowledge and darkness due to the lack.”

“I am Sirius the dog, and through me may all know the value of loyalty, understand the true meaning of penitence, and value concept of justice.”

“I am Harry the Ringtail, and through me, may all know the value of perseverance. May those that know me know me find inner resilience and the strength to endure any hardship.”

“I am Severus the owl, and through me may my pack know the value of secrets. May they value the tranquillity of wisdom and respect the value of silence.”

The pack song thrummed strongly, resonating between all of the members, and for a moment, time slowed, and there was only the oneness of the song.

Then, slowly, weakly, but getting stronger came, “I am Draco the snake, and through me may the pack know the strength of my venom, and may my bite fell the enemies of my Family, that they never be lost to our song.”

The pack song faded as each presence pulled away into their separate minds and bodies.

Hermione looked up as Draco’s hand touched her head, soothing her hair gently. “Hey, Ari,” he whispered.

“Draco!” Hermione hugged her brother tightly, tears running down her face.

“If it’s all good with you,” Draco murmured into her hair as he inhaled her scent and pulled her, Valko, and Viktor close to him. “I really need to use the loo.”

Hermione pulled her brother up by his beautiful and unmarked arms. “For you, brother… anything.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! What a chapter!
> 
> If anyone was wondering why Draco was acting like a werewolf ready to turn, he was retreating into the pack song and into himself. What was left, was a lot like Moony without his wolfsbane potion. Primal. Angry. And not very sane. (Think the Longbottoms.) This is likely to put a nice rift between Narcissa and Lucius in all likelihood, but somehow I don’t Draco is going to be very forgiving to either of them this time round.
> 
> Master Desmondon was a bit of surprise for me. He just “happened” and grew on me. I think, with his influence, good old Voldy’s army may not be as as entirely on his side as he thinks.
> 
> See? This is what happens when I get an early nap!
> 
> I hope this result meets those of you who begged me not to have Draco take the Mark. Here’s the question though… does he reconcile with his guilt-ridden mother? Or does he condemn them both for his ultimate betrayal? Food for thought.


	75. Summer Year Five - Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up realising the Pack Song had sung to him.  
> Harry decides he wants to become an Animagus.  
> Draco confronts his mother about the night she betrayed him.

**Chapter 75: Summer Year Five - Recovery**

Harry opened one eye blearily and stretched and found himself snuggled up next to his godfather, who was quite passed out on the floor, with his back against the couch, head back, and drool trickling down the side of his mouth. Sirius wasn’t winning any awards for comeliness, that was for certain, at least not for this particular morning.

His head felt fuzzy from the night before, and part of him wasn’t sure what had happened until he remember the real reason why he had passed out on top of his godfather in a very undignified position. The pack song had flooded into both himself and Sirius, throwing them down at its mercy, demanding their verse within the song… and something inside of Harry had replied so strongly that it had been almost painful. It had been a bittersweet ache of both homecoming and need, and he had known the moment it slammed into him that something horrible had happened to Draco.

Even so, Draco’s part of the song had come in weakly after the thrum of everyone else had sounded off. The sense of panic had faded and left both Harry and Sirius feeling a bit shaken after it was all over. Strangely though, the pack song had resonated with Harry even though he was not an animagus. It had not only called to him, it had demanded his part in the song, and in that moment he had felt it sing within his very soul. It was faded now, perhaps unable to connect to him outside of that molten desperation that had carried him the previous night. It left him hungry to feel it again and needful for its presence.

Harry shook himself and walked into the kitchen, browsing around to look for something to drink and something edible that didn’t require the use of a frying pan or remembering where the cooking oil was. He settled for cold cereal, milk, and a pear from the basket of fruit on the kitchen counter. A part of him was amused that what he was having for breakfast, even due to his laziness, was still a hundred times better than the stale leftovers he had to endure from the Dursley household.

Summer had blown by fast, and Harry found himself appreciating the fact that he had enjoyed it immensely. Feeling at home was something he never really thought he’d experience. He found it ironic that he’d find it in the house of an ex-wanted convict, even if all the charges were false.

Harry yawned, poking at his cereal. He grabbed a banana out of the bowl and peeled it, tossing pieces into his cereal to make it more appetising. Eyeing the bowl suspiciously, as one would alway check anything around certain Weasley twins, he dug into it, satisfied that the banana did, in fact, make everything better.

Hedwig hooted from the next room, alerting him that Sirius has risen from his makeshift bed on the living room floor. A minute later, the scruffy looking animagus shuffled into the kitchen, licking his chops hungrily and he scanned the kitchen much as Harry had moments before.

“Do you think you could help me learn to become an animagus?” Harry blurted out, causing Sirius to halt the shovelling of cereal into his hungry mouth.

“I could try, Harry,” Sirius said in between mouthfuls. “I thought you were going to ask Hermione, and McGonagall was already planning to start your lessons when school starts back up?”

Harry traced random patterns on the kitchen counter with his fingertip. “I know, but… I kind of want to get a move on it now.”

“You realise that it took a greater part of two years for your father and I get to the point where we made the transformation, right Harry?” Sirius’ voice was amused. “It took Peter a bit longer, actually, and he never did get to the point where he could do it without a wand.”

“Why so long?” Harry asked, sounding utterly disappointed.

Sirius smirked. “No matter how good you are, don’t expect to have it down in a month so you have it mastered before school starts,” he snickered.

Harry seemed to pout, indicating he had hoped that could be the case.

“We were illegally learning the art by teaching ourselves, probably had something to do with it,” Sirius chuckled. “We didn’t have a Master to guide us through the meditations and make sure we weren’t accidentally doing something we shouldn’t have. Trust me it could have been really bad. Your father had to hide himself away for an entire weekend from everyone because he manifested antlers and couldn’t get them to disappear.”

Harry almost spit out his cereal.

“That’s how he got his nickname,” Sirius said with a chuckle. “He kept getting his prongs stuck on things. The doorways… the closet… bathroom stalls. He was just lucky it was winter break and the only ones around at the time were myself and Moonie.”

Harry eyed his godfather with wide eyes.

“He almost gave himself away to the Fat Lady. I had to cover his head, antlers and all, with a curtain and smuggle him by the Fat Lady, claiming that he had a horribly case of vision-cursed acne and that anyone who saw him would end up breaking out. The Fat Lady was so horrified, that she didn’t even ask to confirm who I might have smuggled in.”

“How long was he like that?” Harry asked.

“Oh, about half a week,” Sirius said. “It was around then that I ended up sprouting a tail, and had to figure out how to tuck it between my legs to not give myself away. That was exciting. I also spent quite a few times walking around with the dog paw pads attached to my human feet a number of times… hence my wonderful nickname.”

Harry snickered. “It’s just… Hermione and Viktor make it seem so simple.”

Sirius smiled. “There are some people, I think, that were born to be their animal,” he speculated. “I mean, your father used to say I made such a good dog that I should have just made the change permanent, but the fleas… the fleas I could not stand.”

Harry laughed. “How do you mean it though?”

Sirius rubbed his ear with his finger absently. “There are people who can use the skill, take the form, use the form, then turn back. It’s a tool. Nothing more. They may even be fond of the form, but they don’t have that keep a connection to it.

“People like Hermione and Viktor,” Sirius continued. “They are exactly what they are in either form. In some ways, Hermione is a gryphon who takes the shape of a witch, and Viktor is a simurgh who takes the shape of man… rather than the other way around. Or, perhaps they are just so comfortable, that they shift back and forth with the ease of breathing because they are close to their animal form.”

“This is all speculation, really, but, I see it like this,” Sirius said. “Even if I spent the rest of my life as a dog, I would always be a wizard that looked like a dog. Gryphons are not like cats, lions, or crocodiles. They are both highly intelligent, sentient, magical creatures, and apex predators. Same with simurghs, even though we don’t exactly see many of either. I think they are true to themselves in either form, which is something you can’t always be as an animagus.”

Harry drummed his fingers on the counter and then sighed. “I’d still really like to get some pointers from you, Sirius,” he said after a moment. “Just so I can work on it before school starts up again.”

Sirius shook his head. “Very well, Harry,” said the animagus. “I will start you off with some meditations that helped me, but if I catch you with a raccoon tail sticking out of your trousers and pointed ears sticking out of that mop of a thing you call hair, you will never get to live it down.”

Harry turned a shade of red.

“And if you do take after your father,” Sirius said. “I’m taking of pictures when you get stuck in doorways with your horrendously over-sized antlers.”

Harry blushed a deeper red. “Deal.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus woke with his godson, eventual son-in-law, daughter, bird balls, one cat, a three-headed pup, and a dishevelled looking werewolf curled up against him. Everyone had settled around Draco after his incident, helping him heal with the feel of their combined energy around him. Being together, even without having been damaged first, always brought a kind of comfort, and Severus truly needed it after the night he had at the Dark Lord’s “party” as his godson was being tortured in the cellar.

:Father?: Hermione’s mind voice touched his mind with warmth and curiousity.

:Hrm?: Severus answered lazily, stretching out against her furred back and warm wings.

:How did you met Master Desmondon?: she asked, her mind lazy and peaceful.

:Back when I was young, spiteful, and misguided,: Severus began, :Desmondon saved my life by pulling me out from a duel gone wrong with a fellow Death Eater who was higher-ranked than I. He saved me from fiendfyre, moments before it consumed me. It was he who taught me to shield my thoughts, exercise control over my emotions, and keep my secrets safe.:

Hermione seemed to be chewing on something mentally. :So, you had a lift debt?:

:He never once called upon that life debt,: Severus stated. :He said he preferred that choices be made of free will over obligation, or they were meaningless to him.:

:He has the immortality that the Dark Lord seeks, yet,: Hermione pondered, :he is nothing like him.:

Severus gave a mental shrug. :True immortals, in my limited experience, rarely struggle to hold on to their immortality as mortals struggle to obtain it. If anything… they struggle to find meaning in a life that continues on for many mortal lifetimes.:

:He seemed… honourable,: Hermione said, her tone surprised.

Severus chuckled. :He is far more honourable than most of the mortals that call him dishonourable. It is simply… different due to his age.:

:How old is he, do you know?: Hermione’s curiosity was peaking again, amusing Severus in the extreme.

:Nay, I do not, daughter, and I do not ask,: he explained. :But I do know that he is ancient beyond what most consider ancient, and that few others of his power walk the Earth.:

:I’m curious,: Hermione stated.

:Undoubtedly,: came Severus’ reply.

Hermione fwapped Severus with one of her wings. :I mean… if he is so powerful, why send us to warn him about the raid? Would he not… be able to take care of it on his own?:

:I’m sure he could have, however,: Severus mused, :It may have still endangered a number of his people, and that is something that sets him apart from other vampire masters. He takes care of his people.:

Hermione’s mental brows were furrowing. :The Wizarding books portray vampires as murderous and uncaring creatures. Muggle books seems to like to portray them as sexual beings to be envied for all their power and abilities.:

Severus snorted. :The day Master Desmondon is considered a sexual being is the day I eat my cravat.: he sneered mentally. :However, the truth, like in all real life, is somewhere in between. There are monsters of great evil within the vampire species, and there are those like Master Desmondon.:

:He said your debt is paid,: Hermione stated. :That you may call to him as his equal or his friend, whichever you prefer.:

:High praise, for one such as he,: Severus confessed. :You must have made a wonderful impression upon him.:

:I’m honestly not sure how,: Hermione said. :If anything, I begged him to help me help Draco. I groveled.:

Severus’ mental touch was warm. :You honoured your bargain with him. You kept your word. You paid him in the only currency he cares about, and you did it willingly, trusting him not to kill you. You may not realise how significant that is, but he does.:

:He said others had… disappointed him,: Hermione said.

Severus snorted mentally. :Many have tried to broker favours with Desmondon throughout the years, promising far more than blood as payment. Few of them ever wish to pay up once the task is done.:

:What… happens to them, my Master?: Hermione asked.

:He tears out their throats,: Severus replied, his hand was rubbing the space where her wings met her body, soothing the joint with his hands and causing her to purr softly. :Often in front of family to remind them of their debt.:

Hermione’s mind seemed to ponder how dangerous her bargain with Desmondon had really been. In her mind, she was begging a powerful Master that her own Master trusted enough to introduce them all to. He asked for payment, and she had agreed. It had never even occurred to her to try and renege on it.

:This is why you are worth his notice, daughter,: Severus said softly, pressing his face into her feathers and soothing her wing joints. :It is also why he prefers you to remain alive.:

Hermione’s mind was chewing on something again. :If all he wants in immortality, why is the Dark Lord not just…:

:Turned as a vampire?: Severus finished. :The Dark Lord would never put himself in a position to answer to Desmondon. Even if he found a vampire somewhere else in the word to turn him, he would still have to bow to Desmondon due to his age. The Dark Lord would never wish to seem beholden to anyone. Also… Desmondon said something once that I hadn’t really understood until now.:

Curiosity, the lifeblood of his daughter, surged through the bond.

:Desmondon said that he could never turn the Dark Lord, even if he wished it,: Severus mused. :He said, ‘he had already chosen his path towards immortality.’:

:The Horcruxes…: Hermione said.

:Indeed.:

:Desmondon knows about them then,: Hermione boggled.

:More that he recognises the shattering of the Dark Lord’s soul,: Severus replied. :A vampire such as him could not help but notice such fractures.:

Hermione’s mental voice started giggling through his mind, causing Severus to wonder if she was suffering from a little residual insanity from Draco’s cure.

:Master,: she giggled.

:Do tell,: replied Severus.

:Back in first year, people used to say you were a vampire and a dungeon bat,: she snickered into his mind. :I find that ironic considering who taught you Occlumency and the control of your emotions.:

Severus grunted. :Which I have, in turn, taught you and Draco.:

:We’re a right family of dungeon bats then,: she giggled.

:Vampire bats, apparently,: Severus snerked into her mind.

Hermione snuggled the nearest bird ball with her legs and leaned into him, letting off a soft chuckling purr. :I love you, Father,: she said warmly.

Severus’ hand soothed her wings. :And I you, my Daughter,: he replied, closing his eyes as sleep reclaimed him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco stared at his arm, using his thumb and fingers to feel his skin.

Unmarked.

The kind of relief he had not known surged through him. He had paid the price in agony, but had emerged unblemished and his soul had surfaced through the waves of Darkness that had threatened to devour him.

How his father had willingly submitted to such a thing was beyond him. How his mother… could sleep next to someone who willingly allowed such a thing to take hold of her husband’s life…

Severus, he knew, regretted the day he had taken the Mark pretty much every time looked upon it. It had only been Hermione’s acceptance of him and his Mark that had started a path of healing for the Dark wizard. And through Hermione, Draco had offered his acceptance as well. Draco knew, of all people, that the Mark didn’t make the man… if there was evil within his father, it was not the Mark that put it there. Encouraged it, perhaps. Fostered it with Dark nurturing… but it was not the sole reason for his father’s decisions.

Betrayal simmered in Draco’s gut. The kind that he knew would make him bitter if he wasn’t careful. The pack song sang to him warmly in his mind, protecting him from such a chain of negativity. Through it, he felt his true family… the family that knew him for his true face, understood his mistakes and accomplishments, and loved him anyway. A more eclectic family he could not have been born in, but it felt… right. Even with Potter weaved into the song that had helped pull him out of the darkness he had buried himself into to hide from the pain of the crucios his father had so kindly tortured him with… it had still felt right. The belonging had been real. Waking to see his sister’s worried eyes and feeling her arms around him had proven everything he really needed to know.

Sometimes family wasn’t what you were born with. Sometimes, family chose you.

Draco sucked in his breath, drinking the tea from his cup. The door to the small coffee shop jingled and the figure of his mother nervously walked in. It was a Muggle establishment, deep in the heart of Muggle territory. Draco had made the meeting place as far from all things Wizarding as possible. He had also made it as foreign to his mother as possible, intentionally putting her in a place that she would not have known until this meeting.

Narcissa’s eyes flicked over to him and she started to shuffle over towards him. The coffee shop was deserted, save for a handful of Muggle teens, sitting and chatting in the corner of the cafe.

“Draco,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand, and Draco pulled back from her immediately, ignoring the hurt expression that flickered across her face.

“You’ll have to pardon me for not wishing to be touched by you,” he said, his voice cold. “The last time I let you, you led me into a cellar where my father tortured me into madness.”

Narcissa flinched. She rubbed the sides of her arms in a self-comforting gesture.

Draco may have felt sorry for her, had he had any pity left.

“My son,” she started to say. “I never wished for… I didn’t want…”

Draco’s grey eyes were of ice. “As I understand it, you have no son,” he said coldly. “Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have no son, by his own admission.”

Narcissa’s eyes pleaded with him silently. “He didn’t really do it. He didn’t… he was just… angry… desperate.”

“Don’t you dare defend him,” Draco seethed. “Do not even attempt to convince me that any of his actions were justifiable.”

“Draco,” she said. “He’s your father.”

“He is a Death Eater first. He made that abundantly clear,” Draco said venomously. Draco’s hand moved so quickly that his mother had no time but to gasp in horror as he snatched her arm. “Tell me… mother… has he branded you too? A sacrificial wife and son to his Dark Lord?”

Narcissa grabbed her arm back, rubbing it, Her buttoned shirt had not revealed her skin. If the Mark had truly been placed upon her, it was unclear. She looked into the face of her son and balked. Fury oozed from every pore of his face. Flames danced within the greyness of his eyes. His teeth clenched together, and for a moment, she saw the insane slavering beast in her cellar that chanted “Kill… Kill… Kill…”

“Were you bitten?” Narcissa whispered. “Did he…”

“Worried that I’m a werewolf, are you?” Draco scoffed. “Not ‘I’m so glad you’re okay, Draco,’ or ‘I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to your own father,’ but you want to know if I’m a bloody werewolf? That’s rich.” Draco glared at his mother with disdain. “Maybe I should be. Maybe it would save you the anguish of making up a reason to disown your own son.” Draco’s fury was spilling out from his eyes, and his fist was clenched so hard that his knuckles were white.

And suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, and all the tension in Draco’s body drained out. The fury and the pain faded from his eyes, and he leaned into the touch like a lifeline. Draco’s hand touched hers, squeezing hers gently as he nodded at her silently.

“What is she…?” Narcissa said as she took in the black robed figure standing next to her son.

Curled sienna hair fell about her shoulders like a mane. Her eyes were completely dark, almost black. Her fingers were the only skin showing save her face. Her skin was pale, eerie as though it were shining in the moonlight. She was wearing a long Muggle long coat that hung about her like a shroud. Even though she didn’t seem to be attracting any outside attention from the Muggles, she had an air of magical vibration about her. At her throat were two sigils, and one was the Slytherin crest combined with the mark of Severus Snape. His Apprentice stared back at her with a stony expression, with the lack of emotion that she once though was his alone.

A tall, dark-skinned man stood beside her to one side, dressed in the darkest browns one could obtain without it being black. On her other side was a man dressed in black and crimson, and his black eyes held the same stony lack of emotion of the witch beside him.

“What are they doing here, Draco?” his mother said, uncomfortable with their regard.

Draco’s grey eyes focused on his mother. “These are the ones that saved my life, mother,” he said steely. “This… Mudblood, that you have fondly called her, called me back from the brink of insanity. She paid in blood to bring me back from the groveling, drooling, lunatic you stood by and watched father make.

“They have every… right… to be here… standing. Next. To. Me,” Draco’s words extended out slowly in the same manner Severus used to emphasise words to first years blowing up their cauldrons. “It is because of them that I am sitting here… talking to you. It is because of them… that I agreed to see you at all.”

Narcissa’s expression paled. It was one thing to find out that your son was saved by someone that until that point was “nothing of value,” but to find out that the only reason said son was even entertaining the idea of speaking with his own mother was because of them was even harder to swallow.

Narcissa gazed at the dark robed apprentice. The witch stood just like Severus did. Her face was just as unreadable, her eyes just as unfathomable, and her stillness was just as eerie. There was no doubt in her mind that she was Severus’ apprentice. The two Dark wizards beside her, and she had no doubt at all that that was exactly what they were, were just as stoic and unreadable.

If this witch was Severus’ apprentice, then perhaps that was the reason she had saved him. Severus would have wanted to see Draco helped, so his apprentice would have been obligated to assist. It would explain the Dark wizards beside her. They were there to keep an eye on his Muggle-born apprentice to make sure his orders were carried out… right?

Draco was staring at her, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said with a resigned tone. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

“Draco,” Narcissa said softly. “Please come home.”

“I don’t see that happening any time soon, mother,” Draco said neutrally. “Not while the Dark Lord is having tea parties on top of Great Great Grandmother’s favourite silverware.”

Narcissa wrung her hands. “Draco,” she pleaded. “Please. I didn’t want you hurt. I thought you’d take the Mark, and it would be done.”

Draco stiffened. “Sure, what’s a little magical ink between family,” he growled.

“I think…” said Draco has his hand curved into imaginary claws, his fingernails digging into the table. “That you know exactly what that tattoo is.” He gritted his teeth together. “I think… that you know exactly what it does to a person.”

Narcissa was shaking her head wildly in negative, but Draco continued.

“I think you’ve known for a while now… what it does to a person on which is it adorned,” Draco said, his voice a low and dangerous hiss. “You lie your body down next to my father’s every night. How can you not?”

Narcissa shook her head, there was desperate denial in her eyes. Tears had formed in her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. “Your father will listen. He just wants to make sure you’re protected. He wants to make sure you’ll survive.”

The dark clad witch’s head snapped over to glare at Narcissa, and Narcissa turned her face away to stare at Draco, who wasn’t offering a kinder expression.

“He had a funny way of showing it,” Draco said coldly. “Remember, he walked away from me… after his concerned session with my safety. He turned his head and walked away.”

“The Dark Lord was calling,” Narcissa reasoned.

“He wasn’t calling around the twentieth or so Crucio,” Draco answered. “That was all him, and you know it. Somewhere, deep inside you… you… know… it.”

“He just,” Narcissa insisted. “Needs his family close. Like I do.”

Draco pulled back from the table, crossing his arms across his body. “If you are really concerned about my welfare,” said Draco with a surprising tone of neutrality. “You will be content in knowing that I am safely… no longer at Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa winced, noting that her son refused to even call the place he had grown up “home.”

“And in my concern for you, mother,” Draco replied steely. “I will suggest that you find a place to be that does not involve Malfoy Manor as well. Unless of course… there is a mark upon your arm. I suppose then, there would be no choice for you, would there?”

“I cannot leave your father,” Narcissa said, clenching her hands.

Draco’s grey eyes stared back at her and his eyes narrowed. “I’m willing to bet that there is a mark upon your skin,” he said gravely.

Narcissa looked at him with wide eyes.

“You may not have the writhing darkness of the Dark Mark upon it, but there is a mark there, none the less,” Draco looked his mother in the eyes. “The mark of a hundred thousand times when your husband’s fingers closed around your wrist and dragged you into his way of thinking, his insanity, and his will.”

“My question is,” Draco continued, “is whether you believed the same rubbish he did from the very start. Whether this Mudblood hating attitude you both worked your hardest to instill in me was what you believed in whole-heartedly… of if some part of you knew… knew it was wrong. And even now, perhaps, it eats away at you, gnawing at your perfect pure-blood ideals, demanding to know how the “right” side feels… so… evil.

“And maybe that same part of you knows, when you go back without me, your husband’s ire will focus upon you instead,” Draco’s tone was ice, formed in a blade both frozen and lethal. “His insanity no longer distinguishing between his faithful, abused, wife… and the enemy his Dark Lord wishes him to see.”

Narcissa looked at Draco perhaps for the first time since he was a child. A part of her seemed to realise that the boy she remembered as a child was a child no longer. The innocence that had allowed her to teach and guide her son without question was gone. The boy who accepted her requests with the duty of a son to his family was also gone, and the reason for it was by her her own actions. Narcissa wrung her hands and began to twirl her hair around her fingers in nervousness. “I have no where else to go, Draco. There is only your father. There is only our home.”

Draco’s regard bored into Narcissa. “Perhaps… you need to redefine what a home is,” he said. “Look. If you are really wishing to get out of this mess…without blood on your hands and innocent deaths on your soul,” he said, pausing as watched his mother flinch. “You will take this one opportunity I give you. To atone… and to escape this… downward spiral.”

“Draco,” Narcissa pleaded. “I told you… I’m sorry—”

“Not to me,” Draco interrupted. “Well… not just to me.” Draco straightened and waved his hand.

Tonks walked over from a dark table in the corner, her features having made her look the part of a Muggle sipping coffee while reading an article in the newspaper all too convincing.

Draco pulled an envelope out from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of his mother. “Here is a key. If you really want to escape the cycle of abuse we both know you are in, you will take it, and you will go with Tonks, and you will sit down in your new flat and get to know your niece that you haven’t thought worthy of speaking to. And maybe, once you do, you’ll realise that you cut ties to a side of our family that truly cared for you.”

Narcissa’s hand trembled as she took the envelope. There was fear in her eyes. Fear of the unknown… fear of how she was going to live… fear of being separated from everything that had been a staple of her life for decade, and fear of leaving the side of the man she had shared her life with for decades…

Draco stood, taking his place by the side of his companions, who had remained stoic and silent the entire time.

“You’re not giving me a choice, are you?” Narcissa’s voice wavered.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “There is always a choice. You may take it or leave it.”

Narcissa clutched the envelope in her hands. “And if I take this choice… you will forgive me? I will see you again?”

Draco lifted his head. “You will see me again. One way… or another.”

Narcissa clutched her hands tightly. “But you will forgive me?”

Draco looked at her coldly. “No.”

Narcissa pursed her lips together and her eyes looked like she was going to burst into tears.

“Not today,” Draco said as he looked her in the eyes. “And not tomorrow. But one day, perhaps, if I survive this… then maybe I can forgive you for standing by and watching me go insane.”

Draco nodded to Tonks and started out of the cafe.

“Draco,” Narcissa called after him, causing him to turn. “How…”

Draco’s grey eyes met his mother’s. “They refused to let me descend into Darkness alone and pulled me back,” he said. “These Mudbloods and Blood Traitors are what pulled me from the depths of insanity because they refused to let me go. Think on that… as you decide what you do with that key.”

Draco swept from the room in a manner that would have made Snape proud, his three darkly clad companions following after him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You look as pale as Death, Ari,” Draco said, rubbing the space between her shoulders gently.

Hermione snorted softly, leaning gently into Draco with a small smile. “I’m fine, brother.”

“You needn’t lie to me, sister,” Draco said softly. “Not to me.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I’m just tired.”

“You’ve taken the potions Severus gave you?” Draco said with concern. “The blood replenishers? The vitamins?”

Hermione gave a low chuckle. “Yes, brother, I swear it.”

Draco ruffled her hair. “You paid a vampire in your own blood, Ari,” he said. “Allow your brother to be a little worried for you.”

“Worried for me?” Hermione chuckled, bumping her head into his shoulder. “You’re the one trying to take a one way trip on the insanity train.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he grunted.

“Now who’s the Gryffindor?” Hermione ribbed.

“I have not and will not ever be a Gryffindor,” Draco hissed.

“You happen to be quite brave, Draco,” she said warmly.

Draco mumbled.

“You going to be okay?” Hermione asked. “About your mother, I mean.”

Draco sighed. “A part of me still loves them,” he said after a while. “They are my parents… but while my father was definitely at fault for throwing twenty or thirty or more Crucios at me… my mother is the one that fetched me, held my hand as she led me down there, and watched as he tortured me. I’m not sure I can forgive that.”

Hermione rubbed his back. “Give her some time, Draco. If she does take your offer… maybe she can redeem herself. She’s probably really scared right now…”

“And if she doesn’t?” Draco asked, his face was haunted.

Hermione hugged him tightly. “Then we deal with that when it comes, but I don’t think she will go back willingly.”

Draco met her gaze. “How can you be so sure?”

“She loves you,” she said simply, “and she wants you to remain in her life. And if I’ve learned anything in the past few years… love makes you capable of some pretty amazing things.”

Draco pulled her against him and pressed his face into her bushy hair. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, sister.”

Hermione snuggled into him silently, allowing the warmth of the bonds between them to envelop them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to do a little family resolving there for Draco before moving on to pressing things like Dumbledore and the One Ring (er… Gaunt’s ring… Gaunt’s ring! Wrong story. Whoops!). I’ll admit it took me over a day to figure out what I wanted Draco and his mother to “say” to each other. I mean… what DO you say to someone who watched you get tortured? “Hey, sorry about that, let’s have tea?”  
> So I think I decided, due to some recommendations from you lovely people, that turning Dumbledore into a marmot would make it too easy for him to “escape”… so maybe it would be better if he got cursed into a billy goat and was caught sitting in his office munching on his messy scroll and parchment piles by Minerva. Maybe. Seems perfectly amusing to me!  
> Possible outcome:  
> “Albus!” Minerva screeched. “St….stop eating my hat right this instant!” The cat animagus tried to beat the old goat off her hat with her hands.  
> Severus exchanged looks with his apprentice. “Well, this will make recruiting Slughorn more difficult.”  
> “Or more interesting, my Master,” Hermione said, keeping her face as neutral as possible.  
> Severus lifted one eyebrow. “Indeed.”


	76. This Complicates Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmondon explains to Draco why Hermione was so tired.  
> Dumbledore scheduled a meeting between Minerva and Severus, but he's tardy.

**Chapter 76: Summer Year Five - This Complicates Things**

 

“Lay her down there, young Draco,” Desmondon said softly as he stood at the door. A nervous looking vampire hovered by the door. “I will speak with you later, Mordren,” Desmondon hissed, “or are you going to tell me you are not only too incompetent to recognise my mark or too oblivious to recognise the one that saved you sorry excuse for a life?”

“No, Master,” the vampire simpered. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Get out,” Desmondon growled, sending the younger, though age was probably relative for a vampire of Desmondon’s age, packing.

Draco, who had assisted Hermione from the apparate point to the vampire colony’s new location, gave the master vampire a concerned look as he stepped away from Hermione. Her skin was pale, more pale than usual, and he looked a lot like his Uncle who always looked like he’d never walked out from his dungeon lest he burst into flames the moment the sun touched him.

The vampires had moved with surprising speed and stealth after the warning had been brought to them. Severus had given the group of them a token to take to the leader of the vampires, and the ancient vampire had eyed them all with an eerie stillness about his body. It was, perhaps, the stillness that only the undead could accomplish.

“It must be grave for him to not come himself to deliver this message,” Desmondon had said.

“I fear my Master is currently… entertaining the Dark Lord, Sir,” Hermione had replied respectfully.

The vampire’s eyebrow had lifted, but he welcomed them into his lair to parlay.

Desmondon looked more relaxed on this particular evening. His loose black robes hung about him like wisps of gauze, making him look more like a spectre than flesh and bone.

Hermione was shivering on the couch Draco had helped her to, even though she was wearing the multiple layers of her robes.

“Where is you Master, child?” Desmondon asked softly, kneeling beside Hermione as he stroked her hair out from her face. “Or your mate?”

“Severus has been called away by the Headmaster,” Draco answered for her. “Viktor had to make an appearance in France.”

Desmondon frowned. “To serve two Masters must wear him down. He carries so much upon mortal shoulders,” he said. “More than most mortals are capable of.”

“What’s wrong with her, Master Desmondon?” Draco said, touching her chilled hand and stroking the top of it.

The vampire chuckled softly. “There is nothing wrong with her, young Draco,” he reassured him. “I suppose Severus did not explain when he sent you here.”

Draco gave him a baffled look to answer him.

“Fear not,” Desmondon said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “She is not dying. She is… adjusting.”

“Ad…justing?” Draco repeated.

The master vampire, who seemed to give Dumbledore a run for vague hints and half truths, gave a half smile, which had a slightly unnatural look to it on his half-bestial face. The other, younger vampires looked far more… human than Desmondon. Desmondon’s features held onto human features like a long forgotten memory that danced on the edge of awareness. If you looked closely, you could almost see the traces of the man that lurked behind his feral features, but it required far longer than a typical person would want to stare at the ancient vampire. The last thing someone would want was to gain Desmondon’s attention for something as petty as staring at him.

Desmondon cradled Hermione with one arm and bit into his hand. Scarlet blood dripped down his claw-like hand in a steady trickle. “Drink, child,” Desmondon commanded softly. His voice was soft, but Draco could feel the compulsion strongly. So strongly he wanted to crawl right into Desmondon’s lap and do exactly what he had just asked Hermione to do.

Draco shook his head, digging his nails into his own palms to shake himself out of it.

Desmondon held his hand to Hermione’s mouth, placing it to her lips. “Drink, you will feel better. I promise.”

Hermione moved weakly against him, but did as she was told, perhaps because she was too weak to fight his compulsion, or perhaps because she trusted the master vampire for some reason yet unknown to Draco.

Draco, who had watched Hermione eat countless animal carcasses in front of him so many times before, still felt a little freaked out watching his sister taking a blood offering from a master vampire. It seemed… uncomfortably intimate to be watching—like he was watching someone snogging in the hallways at Hogwarts.

“She will not turn, young Draco, if that is what you are worried about,” Desmondon chuckled at him. His eyes were half-lidded, and Draco had no doubt at all that the sensation of Hermione’s obedient taking of his offering was nothing short of pleasurable. “She bears my Mark,” Desmondon explained. “Just as Severus does after I saved his life. The Mark allows me to heal those who carry it in this way.”

“She took the potions,” Draco said. “Why did she not get better?”

“I am ancient even amongst my kind, Draco,” the vampire said. “My Mark was strong even before I was… old. Her body was most likely struggling to adjust. Judging by the bond I sense between you and her and her mate, there was probably a bit of a ‘power struggle’ between the bonds that drained her energy more than usual.”

“Forgive my curiosity, Master Desmondon,” Draco said respectfully, “but why did you Mark her at all?”

Desmondon’s eyes fluttered, and he gently pulled his hand away from Hermione, easing her back against the couch and propping up her head with a pillow.

“I am old amongst my kind,” Desmondon said. “Those that carry my Mark are under my protection. No vampire younger than I may harm her and any stupid enough to attempt drinking from her would be… unpleasantly and quite fatally surprised. She saved my mate from the hunters’ fires. My honour refused to allow her to go unprotected from my brethren. And that was my price for my help getting you out of Malfoy Manor… allowing my Mark to be placed upon her.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t very grateful at the time you brought me back home, Master Desmondon,” Draco apologised. “I do thank you for your rescue of me.”

The master vampire gave a half-smile, showing his fangs slightly. “I am glad to see you well again so soon after the Crucios,” he replied.

“Will Hermione need to…” Draco trailed off, not sure how to politely ask what he wanted to ask.

“Come here and drink blood every month?” Desmondon chuckled. “No, young Draco, she will not. This was simply to accelerate her healing after the assimilation of my Mark, so you can wipe that look of concern off your face.”

Draco blushed slightly. “I’m sorry, Master Desmondon,” Draco apologised. “I’m still… in all the years I’ve known my Uncle, never once had he mentioned he had ties with you or vampires at all. Not until he sent us to you a month ago to give you the message.”

Desmondon chuckled. “He absorbed every lesson I had to give him,” the master vampire said. “Short of those skills that can only come from being turned, he took everything I was willing to give, but one of the things he took from me was the value of keeping secrets of the relationship to me concealed from all of his Masters and especially his peers. Humans, most at least, either want one of two things from vampires—to kill them or use them. Both are quite offensive, if you can imagine.”

Draco nodded.

Desmondon tilted his head just so, and Draco cocked his head automatically in response, suddenly realising that Severus had learned more than just skills from the master vampire, and the pack had, in turn, learned it from him. Suddenly, a lot of things were making belated sense.

“Master,” Severus’ voice said from the doorway.

“Severus, child” Desmondon replied, turning to meet him. “It is good to see you.”

Draco flinched as Desmondon called Severus a child, but then realised that for someone of Desmondon’s age… everyone was a child.

Severus approached in the silent glide that made so much more sense and knelt at Master Desmondon’s feet, bowing his head with deference. The master vampire placed his hand upon his head lightly, touching his hair with an almost fatherly affectionate pat.

“You are your own master now, child,” Desmondon said affectionately. “You need not bow to me.”

“Thank you, Master, for taking care of my daughter,” he said softly, standing.

“She is her father’s daughter,” Desmondon said. “A better match could not have been made. She has her father’s love of knowledge,” he chuckled, tapping his head with his bony finger. “A touch of his stubbornness, and perhaps quite a bit of his biting sarcasm.”

Draco could probably count the number of times he had seen his Uncle blush on one hand, but he honestly couldn’t even remember any time he had. He would have denied it adamantly but there it was in front of his face. The master vampire had caused Severus to flush with his insight into Hermione. Perhaps, he mused, it was because Severus did not bother to shield against his old Master, or even more likely, their history went back too far to wear masks with one another.

“My mate will be sad to know she missed you all,” Desmondon said. “Alas, she is parlaying with some of the other colonies, to insure their safety as well.

Severus nodded as he knelt beside his daughter apprentice. He touched her hair and stroked it. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, a small smile grew on her lips. “Shh, my daughter. Rest.”

Hermione’s hand grasped his fingers, curling around his hand in an instinctive seeking of his touch.

Severus’ lips quirked upward as his free hand soothed her hair until she was asleep again.

“I fear she will be hard pressed to lose the pale complexion, old friend,” Desmondon said with a chuckle. “Much as you have… over the many years.”

Severus grunted. “A small price to pay for the gift of life. She would agree with me.”

“You a have always valued the practical,” Desmondon chuckled. “It is why you were interesting to me so long ago.”

“And what is long ago for you, Master?” Severus asked.

Desmondon’s lips quirked into a smile. “To one such as me, long ago could be a handful of years or centuries. Does time really matter to one who measures it in lifetimes? It is only the strength of life’s footprint that interests me now.”

Severus held Hermione’s hand in his, his expression softening. He released it, seemingly reluctantly.

“Come,” Desmondon said in a tone that brokered no refusal. “Sit and tell me of the movements of the kings upon the board. Allow her to regain her strength in sleep.”

Severus’ dark eyes met his old Master’s and he nodded, sitting down in the nearby armchair.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione yawned beakily and rubbed up against Severus as Draco curled warmly around her neck feathers. He rubbed her head near her ears tufts and under her chin, causing her to rumble and purr softly. She took his arm into her beak, mouthing it gently, rolling it around in her beak playfully.

Severus wrapped his arm around his gryphon daughter and wrestled with her with a grunt, causing her to wrap her talons around his body and topple him over. She gave an eagle cry of amusement, chirping and calling, growling and fake-snapping as he tickled under her forelegs and ruffled around her neck.

Hermione’s deadly claws raked the ground next to his body as he tickled her, and she snapped her beak on one side of his head and the other.

Suddenly Draco shot out from her neck feathers and wrapped around Severus’ wrists, and Hermione pinned her father down with a squawk of triumph, laying her head against his chest and rubbing up against him mercilessly.

“Oof,” Severus grunted, finding himself plastered against the ground in a very undignified position. “Well that was hardly fair,” he muttered into her feathers, as Hermione’s dark eyes met his warmly.

Hermione rumbled in her chest, the vibration of her happy purr letting all know that she didn’t give a flying fig how fair it wasn’t since she had gotten exactly what she wanted out of it.

“Slytherin to the last, my daughter,” Severus rumbled, rubbing his cheek against her eagle face.

Hermione chirped a non-committal sound, her mind questioning if a gryphon could be a snake. Didn’t each species cancel each other out?

“If anyone could manage a hybrid House, daughter, it would be you,” Severus smirked as Draco loosed his hands as he retreated back around his sister’s neck. “Are you going to let me up, or am I condemned to lie flat on my back in the moss until I die of hypothermia?”

Hermione’s wings curved around him as she pulled him against her body, exuding her furnace like warmth.

“At least I can die warm and comfortable,” Severus remarked dryly.

Contentment emanated from Hermione’s mind, a soft purr rumbling against his body.

“Impertinent daughter,” Severus mumbled into her feathers. “Let your old and abused father up.”

Hermione growled at him, sending him a mental image of him shrivelled and old in a wheelchair with his dentures in a cup of fizzing water and a huge red “x” floating over it.

“I am too old, stupid girl,” he scoffed.

Draco’s mouth clamped on one of his fingers, fangless, expressing his solidarity with his sister that his godfather was indeed “not old.”

Hermione harrumphed, and as a gryphon… the sound was something that would have brought terror to a certain Dolores Umbridge, had the troll of a woman been around.

Suddenly, there was a thundering of hooves, and a small herd of young centaurs ploughed into Hermione, knocking her off Severus and pinning her down with excited whoops, nickers, and horse-like whickers of happiness.

Hermione was covered in young centaurs--only her tail was sticking out of the pile-up with just the tip of her beak on the opposite side.

“May I help you up, Owl Master?” Magorian nickered softly, extending his hand to the Potion Master.

Severus took Magorian’s hand and pulled himself out of the moss. “Thank you, Magorian,” he grunted. He picked up the forgotten hamper of items that had been left to the side and handed it to the centaur.

“Ah the yearly bribe from Dumbledore,” the centaur chuckled. “He is back on his throne, I take it?”

Severus smirked. “He is.”

Bane moved into the clearing, pulling Puddles off Hermione long enough to ensure she could breathe. “The planets waver on their axis in regards to the wizard,” Bane said softly. “Can you even breathe under this pile of younglings, Hermione?”

Hermione gave a cheerful yet resigned eagle squeak. Her tail lashed back and forth, smacking a few of the young centaurs on the rump.

Magorian looked into the hamper. “Ah, I see Dumbledore packed this one himself. It is good that you already brought us a real offering we could use. I shudder to think what we would be forced to endure if this was our only prize of the season.”

Severus shook his head. His eyebrow lifted as Draco was draped around Trefoil’s neck like a lei and she was proudly stroking his scales while remaining curled up on top of the gryphon at the same time. “Dare I even ask what is in that basket?” the Potion Master asked.

Magorian opened the lid and showed him.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think he is showing the effects of his age,” he said sadly. “I know that in Muggles they call it a special name, but by whatever you call it, he fixates on some things and then rambles for hours about things that happened decades before. Yet, at other times, he speaks with that perfect clarity and obnoxious way of withholding his secrets as though he is the only one that can handle them. Of course, later, he’s back mumbling to himself and no one gets to know what he was thinking all over again.”

Bane shook his mane and flicked his tail. “One of the other herds we parlay with from time to time used to have an elder much like that. He had long since stopped being the leader of the herd, but he would act like he was. He’d call everyone by the wrong name… every batch of new foals had the same names… he’d just wander off in the middle of hunts and scare off the game. They ended up having to restrict him to their main camp and sneak off to hunt so he wouldn’t follow. Purslane was his name, I believe. He sired many strong foals before his mind wandered off the celestial starways and started to chase comets that existed only in his mind.”

“You do not speak of other herds often,” Severus noted. “Do you still communicate with them?”

“It is harder now, Owl Master,” Magorian said grimly. “Humans have cut down old forests for their dwellings, obliterating the old paths we used to take in order to make contact with each other. Our people are territorial as it is, and I’m sure they are feeling the pressure brought down by the encroaching humans upon the forest as we do.”

“Though, perhaps, with the treaties now garnered between us and this Ministry of Magic that no longer believe us as being base beasts at best, we will keep our ancestral forests. I can only hope, that their herd has similar agreements with their shared lands,” Magorian said softly. “I will not lie to you Owl Master. If not for you and your pack family, our lives would much less our own. Thanks to our newfound positive publicity, we actually are left alone in peace.”

Severus chuckled. “You have… hero figurines in the Wizarding toy stores, just so you know.”

“Hero… figurines?” Magorian asked with bafflement. “Don’t wizards have better things to do than create effigies of us for their children’s entertainment?”

Severus waved his hand in amusement. “You would probably approve of the positive reinforcement, to be honest, Magorian. The centaur heroes come with matching spiders to defeat, and all the spiders’ legs go flying off when the centaurs kicks them… or shoots them…or whatever.”

Magorian gave Severus a strange face and then shook his head and mane in disbelief. He looked at the pile of young centaurs snuggling up to the squished gryphon. “At least some things do not change,” he said with amusement.

Hermione’s tail twitched back and forth out from under the centaur pile-up.

Severus’ lips quirked upward. Apparently nothing quite said love like being piled-on. Seeing as he had just had that done to himself not a few minutes before… who was he to argue?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Minerva padded down the corridor towards the Headmaster’s office on all fours, tail flipped over her back like a leopard walking around the impala herds. She yawned to herself, drowsy from her day running errands in both the Muggle and Wizarding shops. The school year didn’t really allow for much in the way of personal shopping, and she did enjoy it greatly when she wasn’t hurried to go about it.

The rest of the Hogwarts’ staff, save herself, Severus, and the ever present Argus Filch, wouldn’t be back for a few weeks, but the empty halls rarely bothered her. It made for an easy reprieve from having to decide who was patrolling on a given night and an actual full night’s sleep, which was a rare happening during the school terms.

Hermione’s return to Severus’ side had taken the strain away from the Potion Master’s face, and had she not been sharing his company more often during the month while Hermione was spending time with her parents, she would never have known the calmness the young woman brought him.

Minerva had done the best she could to keep her colleague company, even to the point of curling up in his lap while he was reading and napping. She followed him around the potions lab as he brewed, curled up next to the nest of scrolls and parchments the little hippogriff was nesting in. The hippogriff seemed to agree with her methods, and curled up next to her as she curled up on him.

It wasn’t until the hippogriff buttered Severus up for hand strokes that his hand gently continued the motion across her back as well, soothing her fur gently between his fingers. He continued to pet her absently for quite some time before he froze as if realising that he was petting the Deputy Headmistress like some ordinary house cat.

Minerva stopped that train of thought immediately by head-bumping into his hand, letting it be known that she wasn’t worried about the connotations of being pet like a house cat, and he shouldn’t either. They had always had a civil rapport, even though they were of rival Houses, but Severus had never really opened up to Minerva in all the years she’d known him. She was, thanks to the growing closeness as she got to know the people under Severus’ protective wing, getting to know him better as well. There was even, if she dared say it, a bit of unspoken affection.

It wasn’t until the night Draco had been called back from the brink of insanity that Minerva had felt truly apart of the animagus group. The bonds between them had snapped tight, demanding solidarity and some essential contribution to the song. The song had been beautiful. It had suffused through her like falling into a warm bath, seeping into her body and soul with something undeniably whole. She knew at that point that she would never be alone, and she knew exactly why Severus’ mask was so impenetrable in anyone’s company that was not bound to him by the pack song. The loss of even one would affect the whole—a whole each member would fight tooth, claw, talon, and more to protect.

Never had Minerva been more convinced of her need for Occlumency in the face of Albus Dumbledore. She knew the man scanned minds with the casualness of a person trying to pick out a choice candy from the bowl. Severus had insisted that she learn the skill long before now, but she had never truly had something to protect in her mind until now. She thanked Severus silently for insisting that she learn it anyway because now she did have something important to protect. It was especially important now that she was walking into a meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who would probably love to have a lovely jaunt through her brain looking for tasty pieces of brain candy.

Minerva padded to a halt next to the stone gargoyle that guarded the steps to the Headmaster’s office and changed into her human form.

“Lick’o’rish Spiders,” Minerva said, rolling her eyes.

The gargoyle moved to expose the staircase.

Minerva climbed the staircase, feeling a certain tension in her legs that made her contemplate switching back to her more limber animal self. Reaching the top of the stairs at last, she walked down the corridor to the main door to the Headmaster’s Office and knocked politely before letting herself in.

“Albus?” she called. “This is such a horribly late hour for a meeting. Severus? Are you here already?”

Nothing answered her, and Minerva sighed, picking up the tea kettle from the hearth and moved the tea service tray over. The meeting may be at such horrible hour, but at the very least the man could have sorted the tea for the meeting. She waved her wand to summon the jar of biscuits that she knew was kept full on the mantle of the hearth. She placed the biscuits out on the serving plate and flopped into the nearby chair to wait for the others to arrive, allowing the hat she was wearing to dip down to hide her face.

There were footsteps from outside the door and a courtesy knock before Severus and Hermione entered the room with the sweep of their robes. Hermione was carrying a tray of what looked like finger sandwiches.

“Hermione, whatever is that you are carrying?” Minerva said, looking up from under her hat.

“Winky said that it would a disgrace to her service to let her Master and Mistress to go hungry during a horribly long meeting during supper time,” she chuckled.

Minerva chuckled. “That house-elf is wonderful. I’m glad she’s doing well now.”

Hermione nodded as she placed the tray of food down on the table. “It seems like so long ago I used to think that all house-elves were working in slavery and that all of them needed to be freed for the betterment of all.”

“What changed your mind, dear?” Minerva asked, munching on one of the sandwiches hungrily.

“I wizened up quite a bit when the Hogwarts elves reacted to the very idea of being set free so violently that they refused to clean the Gryffindor tower in fear of being given clothes,” Hermione chuckled. “Many didn’t return until I bonded with Winky and they realised I wasn’t going to force on them knitted socks or something… and I realised something when I bonded to her. She really is happy to be of service. Healthy. Glad to be of any service she can be.”

Minerva smiled as she passed Severus a small plate of sandwiches. The Potion Master grabbed one between his fingers and inhaled it hungrily. “House elves find peace in service. Most of them anyway. There are some, much like in humans, that defy normality, but that doesn’t make either of their opinions wrong.”

Hermione chuckled and nodded. “Lesson was learned, thank Merlin, before I tried to recruit people freeing all the house-elves.”

Severus grunted, handing his apprentice a sandwich plate. “You do have a propensity for odd hobbies, my Apprentice.”

Hermione grinned at him warmly.

Minerva handed her a cup of tea. “You look awfully pale, dear. I think Severus has dragged you down into the dungeons for too long. You even match his dreary complexion.”

Hermione laughed, ruffling her own hair. “I assure you, Minerva, I have been laying in the sun like nobody’s business all afternoon.”

Minerva scoffed. “People are going to think Severus has some sort of contagious magical anaemia.”

Snape snorted into his tea, drinking it down. “Hogwash.”

They ate in companionable silence, finishing off the sandwiches and tea with startling efficiency.

“Now it really is late,” Minerva grunted, slumping in her chair and letting her hat fall across her face. “Where is Albus, anyway?”

Severus and Hermione had identical expressions of “don’t look at me.”

“What is this meeting supposed to be about?” Hermione asked. “And why am I even here, Master? I’m not faculty!”

“You are my Apprentice,” Severus grunted. “You must suffer through meetings with me, and I have no idea what this meeting is to be about.”

“That hardly seems fair, Master,” Hermione pouted.

“Life isn’t fair,” Severus replied with a straight face.

“Bloody vampire,” Hermione mumbled.

“Pot meet kettle,” Severus replied, crossing his arms across his body.

Minerva looked at Severus and Hermione and had to suppress a laugh. They were sitting in exactly the same position with identical expressions on their faces and slouched in exactly the same slump.

There was a crash from within Dumbledore’s bed chamber, and Minerva and Severus looked up. Hermione jumped a little, having not expected that particular sound.

“Don’t tell me he’s been sleeping away while we’ve been sitting here wondering where he’s been?” Minerva asked.

Severus shrugged. “It’s not like either of us make a habit of checking his bed to see if he’s in it, Minerva.”

Minerva gave him a “who knows” look. “Albus? Is that you?”

Fawkes sang a few random notes as he swung on the large brass swing that hung over to the side.

“Get off!” a shrill female voice screamed from the next room. “H…headmaster Dumbledore! Get off my portrait at once! Head…. Headmaster! This is beyond inappropriate! HEADMASTER!”

Minerva and Severus exchanged glances and were on their feet quickly, rushing towards Albus’ private chambers. They crossed over into the library that connected to his chambers and skidded to a halt. Hermione, who was rushing behind them, slammed into Severus with an oof.

“Master?” she asked, trying to peak around the curtain of black that was his robes.

Severus and Minerva stared blankly in front of them.

“Master?” Hermione asked, tugging on his sleeve. “Minerva?” She tried to see around them, but they were blocking the doorway quite effectively with their combined bodies.

“Headmaster! Desist the chewing of my…. HEADMASTER!” the portrait screeched.

“Master!” Hermione tugged on Severus’ robes and send him a mental shove. :Father!: she pleaded.

Severus jolted and stood to the side, taking one step into the room.

Hermione stepped into the doorway and froze, her eyes cast down upon nearby portrait and… the grey bearded goat that was attempting to rip the canvas off the portrait frame and eat it.

“Don’t just stand there!” the witch in the portrait screamed. “Help me!”

Hermione sprang into motion to save the portrait, shooing the goat from the portrait corner. The goat bleated loudly, and trotted out the door past Minerva and headed into the next room.

Hermione made a frustrated face, but whipped out her wand and pointed at the portrait corner and chanted the mending charm to repair the unfortunate ex-Headmistress’ portrait.

“Thank you, dear,” the portrait thanked her. “How very talented of you.”

Hermione gave a quick, awkward smile to the portrait and turned to see her father and Minerva staring blankly to the place where the goat had once been.

“Master?” she said, touching his wrist. She ran her fingers across the skin of his wrist in appeal.

Severus’ eyes blinked and he looked at her, the shock trickling away from his face. “I never thought… he’d put the bloody thing on!”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Let me get this straight, Severus,” Moody said carefully. “You hexed the decoy ring to turn whoever put the bloody thing on into… something innocuous without access to magic, and it… turned Albus Dumbledore… into a goat.”

Severus swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“And you knew that is what was on the ring when you gave it to me as the decoy?” Moody asked.

“Of course I did, Alastor,” Severus snapped. “It gave it you before I even suspected Albus of wanting to get his hands on it to mess with any Death Eater stupid enough to try and put it on to steal it.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me that it would do that?” Moody snapped back.

“I didn’t think the old goat would put the bloody thing on his finger, Alastor!” Severus snarled back at him. “Who would do such a thing? I don’t go around with dangerous Dark magical artifacts and wear them! Why would I presume that Albus Dumbledore, who obviously knows what a Dark magical artifact is, would?”

Moody and Severus glared at each other from over the table as Tonks and Minerva exchanged glances. Tonks was far too deep into snickering to contain anything resembling politeness. Her hair had turned a wool grey and her face twisted into that of a goat.

Albus, who apparently had lost any and all interest in being anything but a goat, was busy licking up the last of the sandwiches on the tray in front of them and then stuck his face into Minerva’s teacup and started licking around that too.

Moody, who had tried to keep a stern looking angry face while scowling at Snape out of principle cracked a smile, and then it was all over. His shoulders quaked, and he guffawed, causing Severus to blink, unsure what to do when Moody wasn’t scowling and angry at him for whatever reason he made up that particular morning. Crimes against fashion. Crimes against hair. Crimes against aquiline noses. Crimes against being an ex-Death Eater. Crimes about being a Death Eater posing as an ex-Death Eater. Crimes involving scaring children into tears by just looking at them. Crimes about wearing black to an Easter Dinner. Crimes for corrupting minors into tolerating his dour attitude. Crimes for drinking English Breakfast tea when he should clearly be drinking Earl Grey… the list went on and on.

“Oh Merlin,” Moody snickered, placing his hand over his face. “This gives entirely new meaning to his “old goat” moniker.”

“Albus!” Minerva screeched. “St….stop eating my hat right this instant!” The cat animagus tried to beat the old goat off her hat with her hands.

Severus exchanged looks with his apprentice. “Well, this will make recruiting Slughorn more difficult.”

“Or more interesting, my Master,” Hermione said, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

Severus lifted one eyebrow. “Indeed.”

Moody was trying to recover himself, and wasn’t quite succeeding. Albus had desisted his attack on Minerva’s new hat, and was now, not very stealthily, chewing on Severus’ black robes.

Severus curled his lip, cocked his foot, and shoved Albus away, knocking him onto his rear. The billy goat cocked his head with an expression that looked… so very Dumbledore.

Moody rubbed the space between his eyes, coughing. “So… Severus… how long will Albus be… experiencing the life of the billy goat?”

Snape’s face was impassive.

Moody eyed him, brows furrowing.

“I may not have put a time limiter on it.”

Moody seemed to be going through a few different scenarios in his head, some of them involving more colourful expletives than others.

“As much as I… have little pity for the wizard who goes and puts on something he believes is an irrefutably Dark object,” Moody said carefully. “The lack of Dumbledore during the school year would be… hard to conceal, wouldn’t it?”

Minerva was watching Albus sticking his face into the bowl of lemon drops that had been sitting on the side table. “There is a always… sabbatical. Merlin knows he hasn’t taken any in all the decades he’s been teaching here. No one would blame him for wanting to take one after the entire Umbridge fiasco.”

Moody’s eyebrow was twitching.

Severus looked dispassionate.

Tonks had turned herself into another goat and she and Albus were head-butting each other in the middle of the Headmaster’s Office.

Hermione at least had the decency to look attentive to Minerva’s idea.

“Assuming that this… unexpected sabbatical goes through,” Moody said. “Where are we going to put Albus while we are doing everything else, which I would hope part of which would be trying to cure the old go… him?”

Severus and Minerva refused to meet Moody’s gaze.

Moody drummed his fingers agitatedly on the table.

Hermione leaned in, her fingers running down her chin as if to stroke an invisible beard. “Hagrid is good with… animals.”

“That’s a marvelous idea, Hermione,” Minerva said quickly. “And no one would be the wiser.”

Moody sighed as Tonks and Albus squared off and slammed heads against each other again. “How much… of Albus is still in there, Severus?”

The Potion Master tilted his head to the side. “I’m not even sure he knows his name, Alastor.”

The Auror’s nose and eyebrow were twitching alternatively. “That will have to do for now. On Friday, a group of us are going to look through Lestrange’s vault in Gringotts since they have been condemned by the Wizengamot as being Death Eaters, again. The Aurors have been tasked with finding anything of Dark Magic or stolen in nature in that vault and making sure it is properly disposed of. Do you think, other than you, if Potter should come look things over as well? Perhaps Black will recognise something as well. This will our only opportunity to pilfer through her vault completely legally, and we should cover all the angles.”

Tonks seemed to have worn out Albus, and she turned back into her human form and flopped on the nearby couch, attempting to look that that was her plan all along. Albus was flopped on his belly, panting heavily, completely exhausted.

“Sir,” Hermione said quietly. “It would be best to take Harry to the vault. He’s had a sense of them since the beginning, and while those of us can and do have a pretty good sense of the Dark vibration, he may be able to home in on it faster.”

“Very well,” Moody said. “I will speak with Black about it. I’m sure Black will definitely wish to come along if we want Potter there. Anyway, be ready to go in on Friday. We’ll meet a quarter after three in front of Gringott’s and go in from there with the Auror party.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“And you, Tonks,” Moody barked. “Take… Albus to Hagrid and make sure he’s set up with a good cover story, and that he doesn’t get sold off to someone like Aberforth.”

“Aye, aye,” Tonks said, saluting. She conjured a collar for Albus and paused her wand over the metal tag. “What do we name him? We can’t very well go around calling him Albus…”

“Gherkin,” Severus said without a change in expression.

Hermione raised a brow. “Well he is in a bit of a pickle isn’t he?”

Tonks shrugged and carved “Gherkin, Property of Hogwarts” into the ID tag and fastened it around Albus’ neck. “Come on there then, Gherkin,” Tonks said cheerfully. “Let’s go introduce you to your new friend Hagrid.”

As Tonks wandered off with the newly named Gherkin the goat, the only sound that followed was the sound of Moody’s hand smacking into his face and sliding down it.

Severus’ and Hermione’s mental maniacal laughter was, thankfully, silent to everyone else.


	77. Summer Year Five - Gringott's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and the Aurors visit Gringott's.  
> Harry meets back up with the Pack after the drama at Gringott's.

**Chapter 77: Summer Year Five - Gringotts**

Gringotts was always an imposing sort of place to be. In the way that Hogwarts was vast and inspiring, Gringotts was almost suffocating. The walls seemed to loom in on those below, arching inward as though bending inward. To be fair, Hermione admitted, Hogwarts didn’t have lines of stern looking goblins staring at you as though every move you made could be the last of your life. Hermione found herself checking the floors for trapdoors, tripwires, and Muggle laser beams akin to a thousand and one spy movies she had watched with her parents growing up.

The Aurors around her made her feel a bit more comfortable. Auror Lucas Firegrove was amongst them, and he put his arm around her shoulder reassuringly, in a manner that made her feel much less nervous. He was always one to share stories of his daughter, which he confessed that she and Hermione were much alike, including in the way they both manipulated him into doing things for them. Hermione had a soft spot for this particular Auror. She wondered, if Neville’s parents had once been as Firegrove was—warm and compassionate while carrying a huge sense of duty.

Harry was looking around with a look of wonder on his face, and Sirius nudged him gently with his elbow and pointed up into the rafters where lifelike gargoyles loomed down over them. Harry’s eyes widened more as Sirius pointed out even more details that Harry had missed on the few times he had come to Gringotts to withdraw funds for school.

Hermione smiled at the rapport Sirius had with Harry. It was a relief to see that Harry was finally in a healthy family relationship that did not involve returning to the Dursleys.

Severus tapped on her mental shoulder with his mind, and Hermione looked up to see him gesture to the huge glass tile mosaic that was sprawling across one dome of the bank. It was a huge white dragon, wings cast open like sails, breathing fire as it stood over a horde of golden treasure.

Hermione grinned, suddenly more interested in the scene than being nervous in the bank, and Severus exchanged glances with Auror Firegrove. Hermione didn’t see the Auror wink at Severus.

The sharp toothed goblin sitting at the front desk took the scroll from Moody, snapping the waxen seal with his index fingernail. He looked down his highly hooked nose, his almost talon-like nails stroking the back of the scroll as his mumbled something to himself.

The goblin took a quill and wrote something on it, pouring wax from a heated warmer on his desk, and slammed a large seal over it, impressing the shield of Gringotts Wizarding Bank into the cooling wax. He rolled the scroll back up and pushed it into a pigeon hole on the wall after pulling a key out from the hole.

“This way, please,” the goblin said through his pointed teeth.

They ended up taking multiple carts down the tracks to the lower vaults, passing by what looked like a long waterfall. The goblin hopped out as the carts came to a stop, pulling out a small device from his pocket that made a clacking sound. He waved it around, and there was a rumbling groan that came from around the corner and rustling as something… large… retreated in the darkness.

The goblin seemed satisfied, tucking the device away in his pocket and approached the heavy doors to a large looking vault. The great doors were sized like those of an ancient cathedral, separated into a smaller set of doors set within even larger doors. The larger doors were big enough that a dragon could have comfortably walked in, had the doors been open.

The goblin ran one finger down the seam of the door and put the key in a slot, turning it at the same time. The door seemed to shutter as the goblin removed the key, and then, like a curtain, disappeared, revealing the contents within.

The inside of the vault resembled more of a cave than something man-made. Countless golden plates, coins, goblets, and figurines littered the vault. Flasks were shelved on one side, animal skins were draped across various surfaces, some with wings and some without, and quite a collection of silverware still in their sorting boxes were stacked to the side.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. The treasure had an odd vibration to it. When she placed her hand over one of the goblets, she felt heat and something off about it. :Master?:

:Hrmph?: Severus replied, turning to her.

:The items in here feel… off,: she said, her pale fingers splayed over the nearby goblet, feeling for the energy.

Snape stood by her, his long fingers mirrored her actions as his brows furrowed. He nodded to her.

“Sir,” Hermione said. “The treasure is… hexed. Be careful not to touch it.”

Moody thrust passed his wand over a nearby ingot and narrowed his eyes as a bright red glow came from it. “Do as she says, people. The treasure in here is hexed. It’s probably cursed as well.”

They fanned out in the cave-like vault. The goblin stood at the door, watching over them. Firegrove stood over a pile of the treasure and his wand hesitated over an object. “I think I found something, Alastor,” he said.

Moody shuffled over to look, casting his wand over the strange looking figurine. “Black!” he barked.

Sirius carefully moved around the vault and looked over Moody’s shoulder. “That looks like mother’s old bookend,” he said. “It used to be in the library.”

Moody ran his wand over it. “I shudder to think what it was used for when it wasn’t holding up books. There is Dark magic upon it. Potter. Do you get anything off it?”

Harry stared intently at the bookend but shook his head. “Nothing like the snake or the locket, Sir.”

“Let’s contain that one, then,” Moody ordered. “Set it towards the back.”

Firegrove nodded, waving his wand over it, putting an bubble around the bookend so he could carry it to the door, placing it by the goblin’s feet.

The search went on for upwards on an hour, with multiple Dark magic infused items being found and isolated from the collection and Sirius checking the piles for things he recognised.

After quite a few areas had been searched, Harry rubbed his head where the scar was and frowned.

“What is it, Harry?” Sirius asked, touching his shoulder.

Harry looked up on the far wall where a chalice sat surrounded in other miscellaneous golden treasure. “That one,” Harry said, wincing. “It’s different.”

“Are you in pain, Harry?” Sirius asked with concern.

“A little, but…” Harry replied. “It’s like a stabbing headache while people are talking around you, but you can’t make it out.”

Sirius rubbed his shoulder. “Alastor, we have a chalice of some sort over here, but we can’t reach it without touching something.”

Moody shuffled over, grunting. “Pity we can’t accio in here.” He looked up at it, scowling. Moody waved his wand. A beam erupted from the end of his wand and bounced off the chalice, practically slamming back into Moody’s face. The Auror dodged with a snarl. The beam pinged off a few things before zinging by the goblin at the door.

The goblin looked accusingly at Alastor, but said nothing.

Hermione peered around from behind Severus’ back, who was standing in front of her with a glowing shielding charm over his arm.

:Thank you, Master,: she said.

Severus gave her a mental sigh. :You are welcome.:

Harry looked at her innocently.

:Master?:

:Mph?:

:We cannot accio in here, but we can cast some spells, yes?: Hermione asked. :What about the levitating someone to said object?”

Severus grunted audibly. “Levitate Potter to the chalice, Moody,” he said.

“I’m sealing it off,” Moody grunted. “Someone else levitate the boy.”

:I’ll do it, Master,: Hermione said. Her hand gently rubbed the inside of his wrist with her fingertips.

Severus looked at her impassively, but his fingers lightly touched her wrist in return before he lowered the shield he was still holding up and stepped aside for her to move.

“You ready, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked up at the chalice and back to her and nodded.

Hermione smirked. While practising with Dumbledore’s Army, the levitation charm was one of their most commonly practised spells. She could cast it in her sleep and guide Harry through an obstacle course.

This time, however, the obstacle course was like the Muggle game called Operation. You had to grab the pieces from inside the “patient” without touching the metal sides, or the red nose would light up and buzz. The difference was, instead of the light lighting up and buzzing, the cursed objects around the target would probably explode or burst into flames or replicate themselves… perhaps some combination of all the above. No pressure. None at all.

Harry was dressed in his Muggle clothes, which made things better —no robes to get snagged on anything. Strangely enough, she could do stealth with surprising skill dressed all in black, but the one thing she was seldom without were her robes, and they were extremely horrible when you were trying to levitate somewhere and not allow them to touch anything.

Hermione closed her eyes, centred herself, and pointed her wand at Harry, chanting the levitation charm. Harry wriggled a little under her spell but evened himself out, reorienting himself to the feeling of being weightless. She lifted him up slowly, so he could tuck himself in the position to reach for the chalice without letting himself touch anything else.

The rest of the Aurors split themselves between watching Harry nervously and continuing to look through the objects in the vault.

Harry reached out his hands and grasped the encapsulated chalice, closing his eyes as did so, perhaps to brace himself for something “bad” happening to him the moment he did so, but the bad thing didn’t happen. His hands closed around the chalice without incident, and Hermione guided him back down. He touched down with his feet with a huge sigh of relief, giving Hermione a warm smile.

Hermione nodded her head with a grin.

Moody inspected the chalice with a scowl, gesturing Snape over with his head as well as Sirius.

“This has the same feel to it as the others, Mr. Potter?” Severus addressed Harry.

Harry nodded, “The same, Sir.”

Sirius shuddered as he looked at it. “That’s Helga Hufflepuff’s cup,” he said with concern. I remember a picture of her holding it back at the castle. Look, see the badgers on it?”

Severus narrowed his eyes as he stared at it. “You are… correct.”

Hermione looked upon it sadly. “I’ve read about it. It was supposed to be capable of great things, but the writings were never clear of what.”

:That would be what we were talking about, Master?: Hermione added.

:Indeed,: Severus answered her. :Something he would gain great pleasure in corrupting because he could.:

:The cup was supposedly something great back in its day,: Hermione said sadly. :Destroying it seems… wrong somehow.:

Severus sighed softly. :The cup, whatever it truly was in its time of creation, was destroyed the moment it became a Horcrux. We must remember this.:

Hermione’s mind voice was sad. :Yes, my Master.:

Severus sent her warmth from his mind, and she returned it immediately. Her eyes met his briefly as she nodded to him.

Moody threw a few more containment charms over the chalice and grunted. “Anything else?” he snapped at the gathered Aurors.

Firegrove gestured to the rather large pile of objects by the goblin’s feet.

The Aurors were all making their way out, gathering the collection of Dark objects as well as a pile of known stolen items that dated back perhaps hundreds of years.

Hermione cocked her head to the side as a her mouth parted slightly. She smelled Severus in the vault. The imprint of his scent on something leather. She tilted her head, rolling the scent around to the back her mouth as if to taste it. She nudged Sirius. “Confirm something for me, please?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Sure?”

“Tell me if you smell my Master’s scent here in this vault,” Hermione said. “Not recent. Something old.”

Sirius nodded, and looking around to make sure no one was watching, sniffed the air. His mouth parted as he too rolled the scents around in his mouth. He looked at Hermione and nodded. “There is something here of yours, Severus,” he confirmed.

Severus’ eyes narrowed and he looked around, his eyes scanning from place to place in the vault.

:It’s coming from over here, Father,: Hermione nudged him in his mind. She stood in front of a particularly cluttered section of the vault. Many skins were draped over the area, covering many of the things that would have been under them.

Gesturing for the others to get closer to the door in case “something horrible happened,” Severus used his wand to check the furs and skins for signs of curses or hexes. Slowly, he moved the skins to the side on the pile, exposing what looked like a small pile of old tomes.

“My tomes on healing Dark magic injuries…” Severus said. “Slughorn gave me an entire set when he retired. He told me I’d find it useful. I had them for good month, pouring through them… and then… inexplicably, half of them disappeared. I thought I was going mad.”

Snape passed his hands over the stack of books and sighed with relief. He picked them up, brushing the dust of the covers of the leather bindings. He opened the front cover and saw his name scrawled on the book plate in his younger and more hurried handwriting.

“I never thought I’d see them again. The collection is beyond rare… and I did not wish world to get back to Slughorn that I had lost his priceless gift a month after he gave them to me,” Severus said softly.

Moody looked over and grunted. “Found something of yours, did you?” he said. “Doesn’t surprise me. I think this vault has more things in it that don’t belong to the Lestranges than those things that do. I’ll send another team to come look for more of the stolen items now that the Dark items are removed.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Moody said. “The goblin is starting to fidget, and I don’t want whatever he drove away earlier to get any funny ideas and come back.”

Severus tucked the tomes away under his robes and nodded.

Hermione put her arm around Harry’s shoulder as they walked out together. Moody stormed out with them, making sure everything was in order before they loaded themselves and the objects into the carts and returned to the surface.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“That vile looking concoction looks… horrible, Remus,” Harry said as he watched Remus chug the Wolfsbane Potion. “Can you really blame me for thinking Professor Snape was trying to poison you?”

Remus chuckled as he finished off the potion. “The taste numbing potion before hand is somewhat essential, I fear. I’ve become dependant on it to dull the bitterness.”

“It smells bloody awful,” Harry said.

“It smells worse to me,” Sirius chuckled.

Lupin shook his head. “Hey, I’m the one having to drink this horrible thing, and I’m telling you it tastes far worse than it smells.”

“That’s not saying much, Moony,” Sirius said.

Lupin snorted. “I supposed I can count my blessings that I have the wolfsbane potion at all. There are many unfortunates out there that do not.”

“Do you have to take it when you aren’t around humans?” Harry asked. “If you aren’t around humans to hurt… doesn’t that make it so you don’t need it?”

Lupin shook his head. “Technically, no, I would not have to, but I would be safer or perhaps saner. Back when I was in school, that is when Padfoot and Prongs… and I suppose Wormtail too… they kept me company, and the rage in me was not so much anymore, but it was never just me trapped in a wolf body. The wolf is stronger when I don’t take the potion. Demanding the hunt and wanting to roam. I wouldn’t want to be like that and accidentally run into someone, you know?”

“Is it different now?” Harry asked. “I mean…” Harry looked down at his lap, unsure what he was actually trying to say.

“I’m at peace now, Harry,” Remus said. “I could never say that before. I wouldn’t risk not taking the potion, don’t get me wrong, but I feel… I feel like with this true pack bond, that the wolf is at peace with me now and me with it. It doesn’t want to roam anymore because… I have a home… a pack… it is probably the most peaceful thing I’ve ever known. Even the change doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s like… stretching or maybe being too big for your clothes after you eat a large dinner. The pressure builds… and then it’s gone.”

Sirius rubbed his old friend’s back. “And those of us who know you are never more glad that you don’t have that agony anymore, Moony. Truly.”

Remus smiled. The days of being pale and covered with scratches and bruises were gone. The times of being tired due to the strain of trying to keep the wolf sequestered was also gone. He was healthy and whole.

Harry frowned. “Do other werewolves…” he started. “Do they experience pain… when they change.”

Remus looked sad. “Most do. I honestly there is anyone, short of Fenrir, that doesn’t. He and his wolf are the same, you see. Both of them are savage and violent. They both agree. For most, there is always the conflict of man versus the beast. There is always… the fight between reason and instinct, and with conflict, comes pain.”

“I find it ironic,” Remus said, “that now that I have access to the potion, my wolf and myself are at peace. Wolves… true wolves, are not violent and evil creatures any more than a lion or a crocodile. They are predators, naturally. They kill, but they eat their kills. They defend their pups, their mate, their pack… What makes werewolves so dangerous is that they are not just wolves. They are wolves who have touched the minds of men. They are somewhere in between, caught between two minds and two worlds.”

Harry nodded and smiled. “I’m glad you’re at peace now,” he said. “You seem happier. You practically glow.”

“Afterglow,” Sirius snorted, coughing into his hand.

Lupin’s eyes grew wide and he swatted Sirius with his fist to his shoulder. “Shut it, Padfoot.”

Harry looked back and forth to the older men and felt like he was missing a key peace to the puzzle. Then the light bulb went off, and he turned a few shades of keep red.

“I think I’m ready to tell her,” Remus said suddenly.

Sirius and Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

“She may never talk to me again,” Remus said, biting his lip. “But… I want to tell her. I need… I need her to know.”

Sirius smirked. “You’re an idiot, Moony.”

Remus looked at Sirius with a hurt expression. “I’m spilling my heart out here, Padfoot.”

Sirius shook his head. “The woman is an Auror, moon for brains. Do you think after hanging out with us as much as she has that she hasn’t put two and two together?”

For a werewolf, Remus looked pretty sheepish.

Hermione came in carrying a small cup. Draco was curled around her neck like a necklace as one happy looking hippogriff was circling around her head in fluttering circles. “Here’s your ticket to being a fuzzball, Ringtail,” she said with a grin. She held out the freshly brewed potion to him.

“Looks like you’re stuck sucking down potions with me, Harry,” Lupin said with a grin.

Harry took the cup. “At least mine doesn’t taste like arse.”

Lupin pshed. “How would you know what arse tastes like anyway?”

“I don’t,” Harry said. “But if I were imagine how bad it would be, whatever your potion tastes like would be it.”

Sirius barked laughter, slapping Harry on the back.

“Why does Draco get to ride around using your neck as a base station, the lazy git,” Harry pouted.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. “Don’t make me have Cerberus pin you down and slobber on you all night.”

Harry spread his hand out in surrender. “Fine, fine, Coils gets all the love.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side at the new nickname. Her hand reached up to stroke Draco across his head and back. The inland taipan rubbed warmly against her hand, his tongue tickling her chin as it flicked in and out. Hermione eyed Harry and slowly and very deliberately kissed Draco on the top the head.

The inland taipan coiled more tightly around his sister’s neck, looking quite startled.

Hermione laughed. “Drink up, Harry, or have you changed your mind about staying the night?”

Viktor entered the room in a whoosh of motion, his expression looked as somber as it had the first time Harry had seen him entering the Great Hall. His eyes fell upon Hermione, and the somber expression changed into warmth. He wrapped his arms around her from the back and pressed his face into her neck, dislodging the perching hippogriff.

Little Vik chirped at Viktor, but perched on his shoulder instead.

“Give up, brother,” Valko said as he entered the room behind Viktor. “You vill have to find good woman that can cook, because you utterly horrible at it.”

“I can smoke meat just fine,” Petya scoffed at him.

“Yet, can burn vater,” Lazar snarked at his brother.

“I vill not always be here to cook for you, Petya,” Aleksander said as he pushed by his brothers. “Find voman who have less air in head and more substance in brain.”

Petya turned a nice shade of burgandy as he realised Moony, Padfoot, and Harry were staring at him.

“Bad date, bátko?” Hermione asked Petya.

“Date vas fine,” he said, smacking his lips together.

“Date vas glorious,” Valko interjected. “As long as no conversation required.”

“Did too have conversation!” Petya protested.

Lazar made suggestive noises to state the contrary, causing Petya to transform and fly at his brother’s face. Lazar transformed as well, and the two birds slammed into each other in a flurry of misty and sky coloured feathers.

Viktor shot Aleksander and Valko a sharp glare, and the two brothers shrugged and waved their hands in innocence.

Harry chose that moment to chug his glass, and shortly after set about grooming his face and ringed tail into order as inconspicuously as possible.

Hermione and Viktor was already curled up together in a tangle of wings with Draco woven between them when Severus walked in, carrying Minerva in his arms. The smug looking tabby cat’s tail swished lazily as he put her down on the chair and was in owl form within a blink of an eye, settling down to perch on Viktor’s withers. Hermione drew the fiery and earthen coloured bird balls to her chest as Cerberus bounded into the room, tackle pounced Harry, and dragged him by the tail towards the pile before flopping between Hermione and Viktor’s legs.

Harry’s tail poofed out in surprise, but Hermione’s foreleg wrapped around him, pulling him closer and he settled almost immediately, cooing softly in approval.

Sirius snuffled Harry’s fur and flopped down, joining the pile.

Minerva finished grooming herself on the chair and leapt down and padded over to the group, leaping up to walk across Hermione’s back and settle next to the dark and disgruntled looking owl.

Severus turned his head to the tabby and hooted.

Minerva yawned into his face and snuggled into his feathers as the little hippogriff snuggled between her legs.

Severus ruffled his feathers but turned his head back to the front and closed his eyes.

By the time the two aerial fighters deigned to join the sleeping pile, Moony had already turned, curling up next to Viktor’s back with a snuffle and yawn. The tardy bird balls strutted nonchalantly over to Hermione and snuggled up next to her warm belly fur, their argument settled and forgotten.

 

 


	78. Summer Year Five - Slughorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets into some trouble with Aleksander.  
> Harry almost gets sold as an animated construct.  
> Minerva takes Hermione to recruit Slughorn.

It is only the great hearted who can be true friends. The mean and cowardly, can never know what true friendship means.  
-Charles Kingsley

 **Chapter** 78 : **Summer Year Five - Slughorn**

Raccoon Harry was having a great time fussing over the shiny tins of spices in the kitchen as Aleksander was cooking breakfast. He grasped each tin as he passed it, sniffing it over, pawing it, and then dropping it back down, cooing and chittering as he went. One of the tins smelled particularly good, which made him want to chew on it, so he stuffed it into his mouth and gnawed on it. The tin didn’t taste as good as the smell, however, so he spat it out, causing the tin to topple over the edge.

Aleksander caught the tin as he was stirring something over the stove and set it back on the shelve, grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck. “Out of my kitchen, ring-tailed menace! Or cook you for breakfast!” He plopped Harry down on the floor and shoved him out of the room with his foot.

Harry shuffled into the next room, chittering, looking to find something else to do. They had all port-keyed back over to the Aerie once Moony had turned into his less furry self, but Harry was still under the effects of the transformation potion. It made things more… dare he say it? Oh yes. Fun!

He shuffled over to one of the shelves where a jar of venison jerky was. He fiddled with the latch and popped it open, grabbing one of the larger pieces and, looking around to see if anyone was looking, stuffed another into his mouth, closing the jar and latch and pushing back into place on the shelf. He shambled further down the shelf and hid behind the flour sacks to chew on his prize. The venison jerky tasted wonderful as a human, but it tasted like ambrosia as a raccoon, and he savoured it as he tore into it hungrily.

Chittering to himself, he peered out from behind the flour sack and cooed, unable to help himself. No one was watching. He walked out from behind the sack and climbed down the shelf and moved on to another. His nose worked as he caught scent of something that interested him.

He stood on his back legs and went up onto his tip toes, homing in on the scent. Scrambling up the side of the shelf he desired, he wiggled in behind the stock and found one of the drink bottles that smelled like strawberries and cream on a spring day. He peered over the bottles on the shelf, eyes darting, ears perked to see if he was was alone. He grasped the top of the nearest bottle and drew it down, sticking the cork in his mouth. He wrestled with the bottle using both his hands and rear paws, working the cork out with a gnawing motion.

Pop!

Drink of the gods in his mouth!

He lapped frantically at the end of the bottle, savouring every drop like it was the last on Earth, wriggling his nose as the fizz from the drink tickled his muzzle.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and Harry froze, cradling the bottle close to his belly, mouth frozen on the end of the bottle as his small sharp teeth were suspended in action around the lip of his prize.

“Da, drugar,” Valko’s voice called out. “Unlocked door and turned on sign.” He said a chain of things in Bulgarian, and was answered in kind from five other voices. Valko seemed to cheer up from their answers, and he was singing a song to himself in Bulgarian.

Harry’s ears twitched as he listened, his mouth still frozen on the lip of the bottle, his tongue occasionally lapping at the sweet drink that trickled out. Bulgarian songs, he was convinced, all sounded like drinking songs. He wasn’t sure if it really was a drinking song or just sounded like one. Every one he envisioned a group of rowdy wizards slamming their mugs of frothy drinks together, chugging them, slamming the mug down on the tavern table and belting out… well every song he’d ever heard in Bulgarian.

“What?” Valko’s voice said, song interrupted.

Little Vik was hovering in front of him, wings flapping in earnest. There was mail in his talons.

“Oh! Blagodaria, little one,” Valko praised the little hippogriff. “Save me trouble of getting mail dropped on head.” He cuddled the little hippogriff against his body, allowing the little creature to snuggle up against him. Vik pranced up onto Valko’s shoulder and chirped sweetly.

Valko tore into the envelope and chuckled. “Excellent,” he said. Folding up the letter and putting it back into the envelope. He trudged off from the front of the store, heading towards the back.

Harry resumed furious chugging of the drink he had been clutching in silence for the last few agonising minutes. Only when the last drop of precious fluid was lapped out of the bottle did he set the bottle back down, stuffing the cork back into it awkwardly, in an odd attempt to make it look like someone had forgotten to fill the bottle.

He cooed as he shuffled off the shelf and plopped onto the floor. He clambered up in the large picture window, settling between the animated horses, unicorns, and dancing bears. One of the animated hummingbirds buzzed by his head and settled between his ears. Harry looked upward as the dauntless little creature made itself at home.

He watched the people walk by the window in the early morning. It was still too early for most of the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade to be in high gear. Shopkeepers were waving to each other in the early morning, opening their shops for themselves to get ready for the visitors.

Harry groomed his face habitually as he watched out the window. He found it odd that some of the shopkeepers preferred to live outside of Hogsmeade and travel in to open their stores. He knew the residents of the Aerie would never feel comfortable being so far from their livelihoods. It was here that they were close to their pack family and business combined. The forests from which they made their living was also close. The population was not so overcrowded that it lost its peacefulness… it really was an ideal place to live if you weren’t trying for some high profile ministry job.

Harry groomed his ears fastidiously. He knew that the pack was perfectly content settling for shop life. They had a comfortable home, a successful shop, healthy alliances, and each other. Their business had become so successful that they had plenty to go around, and that which they had, they shared amongst each other equally.

It had been the pack that purchased the flat for Draco’s mother, he had learned. It was they that made sure supplies and food were sent there weekly to insure she was not forced to leave the safety there if she wasn’t purposely wishing to. Short of introducing her to Tonks and getting her in touch with the “shunned” branch of her old family, the pack left her alone, giving her time to settle into a hard part of her newly traumatised life with her dignity. If she wished to reach out, she could do so through Tonks and her sister. Draco, however, wanted little to do with her, save to insure she was safe. Emotionally, she had wounded him more than any other person could have. His father had been a known Death Eater. A person expected a Death Eater to do horrible things.

A moment caught his eye, and Draco yawned from his coiled up place in the sunbeam, warming himself in the early morning light. The inland taipan flicked his tongue out at him, tasting the air. He inched his way over in a smooth slither, curling around Harry with his coils and placing his head on top of Harry’s right next to the little hummingbird that had decided Harry was a good a place to nest as anywhere else.

Harry’s tail poofed in surprise, but his hand-like paws groomed Draco’s scales absently and the thrum of the pack bond resonated between them. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of belonging. He knew it would fade once he was no longer a raccoon, and he realised he would miss it horribly. It made him all the more determined to become a successful animagus. Through the bond he had been given insight into a world he hadn’t known existed, and much like his into-the-fire induction to the Wizarding world, his by-the-fur-of-his-ringed-tail induction into the animagus world left him hungry for something he could barely understand but felt keenly in the depths of his soul.

The door opened and the bell chimed, and Draco slithered off into the dark faster than Harry could even realise the door had opened.

“Oh, Mama! Look!” a child cried.

Small arms wrapped around Harry, squeezing him. Harry’s eyes bulged, his tail puffed out, and his ears cocked to the side.

“Anna, what have I told you about running up and picking up any old thing without asking,” a tall but good natured looking witch admonished her daughter. “Oh he does look very real,” the woman cooed, petting Harry on the head, dislodging the little hummingbird.

“Oh! A hummingbird!” the little girl squealed, dropping Harry on his rump on the floor to chase after it.

The child’s mother picked Harry up, dusting him off with her hand and giving him an appraising look. “You do look so amazingly lifelike,” she boggled. She scratched him behind the ears and Harry found himself cooing and chittering, unable to restrain himself from the flurry of pleasure the ministrations were giving him.

“May I help you find anything?” Hermione’s warm voice greeted from around the corner.

“Oh! You caught me petting one of your wonderful creations from the window,” the witch said warmly, plunking Harry down on the picture window bench once more.

Hermione’s scent changed, causing Harry’s nose to twitch. He looked up at her and saw her lips curved into a smirk. “He is one a kind, I fear,” Hermione said. “We don’t even have the heart to sell him,” her hand reached over and grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and he felt her talons just clearly enough to know that if he moved a whisker out of line, he would be in for it.

Harry went limp as Hermione pulled him to her chest, gently running her hands across his back like one would stroke a cat.

“Pity,” the witch said. “Anna would surely adore one like him.”

“She might,” Hermione replied. “But trust me you wouldn’t want the menace in your kitchen knocking spices off your shelves, or in your storeroom…” Hermione’s talons were rubbing under Harry’s chin very… very… slowly. “Raiding it for food.”

Harry went very still in Hermione’s arms. Busted.

The older witch laughed. “I suppose so. How much for the hummingbird, please? I think that and my weekly order of supplies would be perfect.”

Hermione plunked Harry down counter and put a heavy glass cake bell over him, preventing his escape. Harry pressed his paws against the glass, gazing out into the store wistfully.

“It is 10 galleons for the hummingbird, Mrs. Geraghty, and the normal price for your weekly supplies,” Hermione said. “I can add a shatterproof charm to the hummingbird and bond it to her so it cannot get lost or stolen, if you wish.”

“Bless you, my dear,” Geraghty said with a smile. “It would be the one thing the child could not lose.”

Hermione laughed as she heaved a crate up onto the counter. It was filled with meats, seasonings, an assortment of drinks, and preserves.

The older witch counted out a handful of coins and placed it in Hermione’s hand. Hermione accepted them gracefully, placing them into the cash register and pushed the crate closer to the witch with a smile.

Anna was still chasing the little hummingbird around the store.

Mrs. Geraghty laughed and called her daughter over as Hermione held out her hand and the little hummer alighted on her finger, giving a series of chirps.

Anna’s eyes went wide. “How’d you do that?” she boggled.

Hermione knelt down beside the little girl. “Cup your hands for me, would you please? Just like that.” Hermione placed the little hummingbird in her hand. “Now think of the colour you love most in the world. Close your eyes. Think really hard.”

Hermione smiled as the child squeezed her eyes shut, her face screwed up with concentration.

Hermione placed her hands around hers and closed her eyes, concentrating. A flash of warm magic came from her hands, and she pulled away. “You can open your eyes now,” she said.

Anna opened her eyes and gasped as the emerald and ruby coloured hummingbird came to life in her hands, flitted around her head, and dove into her hair, making the child giggle with pleasure.

Anna’s mother smiled at Hermione warmly. “You’ve made a friend for life,” she told her as Anna glomped around Hermione’s legs in gratitude.

Hermione smiled. “Do you wish me to shrink the crate down for you? You may leave it here until you are finished with your errands in town and come back for it.”

“No problem, love,” the witch replied. “My darling husband is in the next store over, waiting with baited breath to carry my heavy objects.”

Hermione smirked as the witch tilted back her head and laughed.

“I’ll be fine, dear,” she cooed. “We only have one more stop before we have to return home and get the munchkin ready for preschool.”

Hermione nodded, passing the crate over to the cheerful witch. “Have a wonderful day, and thank you for visiting us.”

“No, my dear, thank you all,” Mrs. Geraghty replied. “I’ll see you next week.”

The elder witch took her child by the hand and they walked out of the store together, the tiny gem-coloured hummingbird flitting around Anna’s hair as it made happy chirps.

Hermione turned to the cake bell she had imprisoned Harry in. She lifted the lid and picked up Harry by the scruff of the neck. “So… Harry…” she said bringing him up to look her in the eye. “Whatever am I going to do with you?”

Harry widened his green eyes, looking her in the pale face and dark eyes appealingly. He placed his front paws on her nose and tried to look as innocent as possible.

“I don’t believe that for a second, Harry Potter,” Hermione said.

Harry wriggled and cooed at her.

Hermione stared at him, eyebrow raised in pure Snape style. “Not for a second,” she grunted as she plunked him down on the floor. “Shoo.” Her foot connected to his back end and shoved him towards the back rooms.

“And stay out of the venison jerky, Ringtail,” Hermione called after him. “Or the next potion I give you will have you contemplating your life as a salmon.”

Harry scurried off in a hurry, chittering in his haste to escape Hermione’s retribution.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Minerva adjusted her hat and robes as she approached the rather quaint looking house. It was quite nice to look at, and the yard had a fine garden that went from the front and back. There were high, well-trimmed hedges surrounding the brick yard walls, and ornately carved gate pillars sporting wrought iron gates that swung open with a soft creak.

Tonks had said her intel was positive that Horace Slughorn was holed up in Budleigh Babberton, and it had taken another day to determine where in the small village he was hiding in. The man was horribly elusive when he wanted to be, and it was quite clear that at this particular time he was definitely wanting to be.

As she stood at the gate, peering at the entrance to the house, she noted the windows were dark and the door was removed from its hinges, leaning up against the door frame haphazardly. A shiver went down her spine as she took in the feel of the place. It seemed out of sorts… almost violated, and she wasn’t sure what about it was more out of place.

“You’ll have to pardon me for stating the obvious,” Minerva said after a moment, “but I do not think we are alone in our quest for Horace Slughorn.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared, her posture stiffening beside Minerva. Her wand was already in her hand. “Werewolves, Minerva,” Hermione said with her teeth gritted. “You can smell them.” Hermione looked upward to the full moon peaking out from the clouds. “And tonight… they are counting on the timing of the moon to be on their side.”

Minerva’s nose lifted and she sniffed the air. Her eyes narrowed.

“Drink this, Harry,” Hermione said, pulling out a vial. “And stay under your invisibility cloak. If a fight breaks out, stay low. I’m not going to ask you to stay out here, because I know you want to help. If you get a safe shot in, take it, but if you don’t… don’t endanger yourself, Harry. I trust you to make the right decision.”

Harry downed the vial without even asking what it was and nodded. He looked at Hermione with concern, but the one thing he had learned in the last few years, was that if he distracted Hermione in the middle of battle, bad things happened. Harry put on the invisibility cloak and kept behind Hermione and Minerva, who were standing back to back as they advanced forward.

The door that was laying against the door frame was clawed as if by a large animal, but the shape and spacing was human. The paint was chipped and the wood gorged, but, something was off about them. A werewolf was a large, wolf-like creature. Whoever had clawed the door was humanoid.

Neither Minerva or Hermione announced their presence. They just walked in slowly, eyes and senses scanning the rooms as they went.

A series of growls sounded off from a back room. “You might as well come out, Slughorn,” a male voice growled. “You can come out now with us… nice and… pathetically human to our Lord. Or you can become one of us as soon as the moon casts its blessing upon us… if you survive the experience.”

There was a series of human growls and laughs afterwards.

“Our Lord is tired of asking nicely,” another voice said. “And we are tired of hunting you across the country.”

There was the sound of something heavy hitting what may have been a door over and over again.

Hermione signalled something to Minerva, and the elder witch nodded. Hermione held out her hand, bending her fingers into an odd configuration. She drew an arch into the air with her hand twisted at the odd angle and then another to complete the circle. Positioning it over the door. Hermione gestured to Harry, silently asking him to stand back, and Harry shuffled to a place out of the way of the door, using an old grandfather clock as a shield.

Hermione drew glowing runes in the air in the circle, watching them fade slowly to be imperceptible. Minerva blew something into the circle and it glimmered for a moment and then faded away. Hermione and Minerva then stood on opposing sides of the door. Hermione was smirking. Her eyes were glittering with a sort of fire in the darkness. She looked right where Harry was as though she could see him. Her mouth was curved into an unnerving grin.

Suddenly she tilted back her head and roared. A primal sound that seemed to mix the better part of a lion with something distinctly “other.” A rumbling tremor mixed in with the sound—a vibration that caused Harry to shiver and the knickknacks on the nearby shelf to rattle against the wall. It was a challenge, a dare, and… a possessive proclamation. Harry felt the pack bond resonate with the sound, even without being in an animal form, and was suddenly reminded of a nature documentary of lions roaring on the television back at the Durleys when Dudley was trying to write a report on African predators.

A wild crash and profanity came from next room.

“Find whatever made that!” snarled a voice.

Scrambling noises and yells combined as three people slammed into the rune circle Hermione and Minerva had made. There was a flash of light as they landed on top of each other in a pile in front of the door and another came through, tripping over the pile, and a red beam came zinging out of Minerva’s wand and blew them against the wall, unconscious.

There was the sound of screaming in the next room, and Harry recognised it. It was combined with the sound of bones and muscles shifting and reforming. It was the sound he knew well from when Remus Lupin had first transformed in front of him and everything had gone wrong. It was agonising proof that Remus had transcended his condition to become something more… or perhaps what werewolves should have been all along. These werewolves, however, were not. Even though the seemed to want the transformation, apparently there was no peace between the men and their wolves.

The first werewolf flung himself out the door, snarling and snapping, driven into single-minded determination to spread his infliction to the humans he could smell. He skidded once he leapt over the unconscious bodies of his brethren, who now lay as unconscious wolves. Apparently, being unconscious did not save you from the transformation. Harry filed that away somewhere in his brain for a time when he wasn’t about to have multiple werewolves up in his face.

The werewolf spun around and growled, seeing his target in Minerva and Hermione. He paused long enough to decide which of the witches to go for, and that was long enough for both Minerva and Hermione to blast the werewolf head over heels to the far staircase. Its body slammed so hard into the stairs that the banister broke into pieces, and the werewolf fell to the ground, unmoving.

Minerva wasn’t waiting for some sort of confirmation on the werewolf’s being out of the running, either, because the moment the werewolf fell to the ground, she had ropes flying to bind it up.

Another werewolf was engaged with Hermione, who barely avoiding multiple fanged lunges the werewolf was doing to get a bite in, any bite, somewhere on her body.

Harry was just about ready to throw a spell at that werewolf when another can leaping in from the next room. Minerva barely dodged out of the way and Hermione’s arm went up and slammed into the werewolf’s mouth as his fangs came crunching down. Her wand went spinning off into the darkness.

Minerva flung a spell to hit the other werewolf Hermione had been fighting previously straight into the curtains, and she had the curtains wrapping the werewolf up like a Christmas bundle, using the curtain ropes to tie it up with the thick fabric.

Harry looked on in horror as Hermione went crashing down to the ground, convinced that his friend would now be condemned to being a werewolf during the moon cycle.

There was a cracking sound as Hermione’s opposite hand came around from the other side. A second later, there was a flash of silver and a yelp as she shoved her armoured talons into the werewolf’s face, gouging into the beast’s eyes.

Hermione’s face was wrathful, her ashen skin shining in the dimness of the room. She was both glorious and frightening as her teeth clenched together and her attacking arm jerked, her claws digging in deeper. She shoved her opposing arm tighter against the werewolf’s mouth until there was another audible crack. The werewolf yelped and Hermione slammed the werewolf against the wall with an audible snarl of Bulgarian that did not sound remotely repeatable in polite company.

The werewolf’s body jerked and went limp, falling to the floor. Hermione stood over it, her eyes black with the strength of her tight control. She removed her arm from the werewolf’s broken jaw and curled her lip in disgust.

There was a rustle, and Harry saw the blur of motion run beside him, and he didn’t even think as he pointed his wand out of the cloak and yelled “STUPEFY!”

A werewolf that had been sneaking around from another room collapsed at Hermione and Minerva’s feet.

Hermione’s almost black eyes bored into Harry as he cast off the invisibility cloak, and she nodded to him silently in gratitude. Her head went up, her mouth parting as she inhaled. Her teeth bared slightly, but she exchanged looks with Minerva who was sniffing the air in the same manner.

Minerva waved her wand and the room flickered to life, the lights were flickering back on, pieces of plaster and crystal moved in a wave across the floor, picture frames righted themselves and flew back into position on shelves that rebuilt themselves, and the curtains, save the one wrapping up the werewolf, rehung themselves into proper position.

As the lights came back on, Little Vik came fluttering up to Hermione, carrying her wand in his claws. Hermione scooped him up silently, pocketing her wand in a fluid motion and pressing her forehead to the small hippogriff’s face. Vik chirped encouragement, fluttering his wings as she ran her hand across them.

“I swear you are Merlin’s gift on Earth,” Hermione whispered to Vik.

Vik chirped supportively, rubbing his beak against her nose before darting back into her hair with a chirp.

“Hermione,” Harry said with concern. “Did it bite you? Are you okay?”

Hermione pulled back her torn sleeve with a grim smile, exposing her undamaged arm.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Minerva said with relief, taking Hermione’s arm in hers and looking her over. “That was a very scary thing you did there, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded sadly. “Fortunately, my Master thinks further ahead than our adversaries.” She allowed the armour to spread across her hand and arm, tapped it, and then made it disappear. There wasn’t even a blemish upon it.

Harry sighed with relief, reaching out to rub her shoulders gently. Hermione leaned into him, a hint of warmth returning to her dark eyes. “I completely forgot about that armour,” he confessed. “I thought you were going to be joining Remus in monthly detention.”

Hermione snorted. “I’m not even sure I can become a werewolf with all the opposing Marks upon me, not that I’m going to go getting bit to find out.”

Harry shook his head. “Please no.”

“I agree,” Minerva said, placing her hand on Hermione’s shoulder with a grim smile. She looked at the stunned and roped up werewolves with a deep sigh of relief. “Now… let’s see if we can convince Horace to join us for next term.”

“I’m pretty sure I won’t take much convincing after that show,” Horace said meekly as he peered around the door into the next room to see the multiple werewolves covering the floor. “Can I move in tonight?”

Hermione, Harry, and Minerva exchanged glances.

“I think that would just fine, Horace,” Minerva said with an exhausted chuckle.

“Hermione, could you send your little friend to inform Alastor of our… friends here on the floor?” McGonagall said after she soothed her own hair back and put her hat back on.

“Of course,” Hermione said, plucking the hippogriff out of her hair. “One cranky Auror coming up.”


	79. Summer Year Five - Summer’s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits the twin's new store.  
> Fred and George visit Mr. Ollivander.  
> Severus discovers gryphon bait.

**Chapter 79: Summer Year Five - Summer’s End**

Fred and George had actual suits on, and they looked about as out of place as Hermione did dressed in her now familiar black robes at an Easter Outing surrounded in children in horribly cheerful pastels. As if accentuate the contrasting mental picture, Hermione was wearing her father’s best scowl, proving that she was, undoubtedly, her father’s daughter. Genetics be damned.

“Are you sure you aren’t genetically related, Hermione?” George poked Hermione out of her unconscious scowl.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that scowl is genetically encoded in Snape’s DNA,” Fred ribbed her.

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes to the side to stare at the twins. It was a very Snape expression.

The twins looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe you were adopted,” they said together.

Hermione snorted, but the twins seemed to think it just confirmed their hypothesis that Hermione’s last name really was Snape and somehow, without him even knowing it, Snape had fathered a daughter in his past, some yet unknown mother put her up for adoption, and she just happened to land in with the Muggle Granger family.

The twins grinned at her, choosing to believe exactly that in favour of the more boring story they were convinced was a cover.

Hermione grunted. Surely they had something better to ponder than her wayward genetics?

Fred and George elbowed each other, eyeing her with mischief.

Apparently not.

“So what do you think, Granger?” the twins chimed together, ducking as a flying animated plane flew over their heads.

“I think that rubbish you are selling as love potions is going to get you into some trouble,” Hermione said flatly. “The Pygmy Puffs are quite adorable, though. You finally get the permit to go through with the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?”

Fred nodded even as he snickered at her comment on the love potions. “We managed to get a nice exception to the Ban of Experimental Breeding when we brought them a few to test out for dangerous traits. They charmed the pants off the entire office. We even got a few hundred orders from the department for their kids, just like you said they would.”

Hermione smirked. “Cuteness tends to a good secret weapon, so I’ve learned.”

Little Vik popped his head out from her hair and chirped decisively.

George grinned and patted the little hippogriff. “Couldn’t imagine where you’d learn that.”

Hermione sniffed. Cerberus panted excitedly from her side, looking around the shop with wonder, his nose working furiously to catch all the new scents.

Occasionally, someone would walk by in the store and boggle at the three-headed dog, asking if they could pet him. Hermione nodded to them, smirking as the pup slobbered over everyone, enjoying the attention.

Fred handed the pup a three-knotted rawhide from the stack of chews in a bin at the side of the store. The bin was full of random pet entertainment toys and snacks for “everything from house cat to familiar.” Cerberus sat down and dutifully tore into the offering, all three heads working on its own knot of rawhide.

Hermione chuckled, leaning over the bin to find different coloured fishy smelling ears on a tether. Her eyebrow lifted into her hair.

George laughed. “Crookshanks inspired those. Apparently cats can’t get enough of them. We started dyeing them different colours and flavouring them like fish or dipping them in catnip oil.”

Hermione smirked. “You do have a little bit of everything here,” she noted. “Even a little Muggle magic section in the back. That a little tribute to your father?”

The twins grinned and nodded.

Hermione smiled, the warmth filling her dark eyes. The days of when emotion was at the forefront of her eyes in public were long behind her, and despite being with the twins, she was rarely not on guard. The joke shop was still too public, and much like her father, public scrutiny was a danger to everything she held dear. It made the genuine displays of warmth all the more rare.

“We wanted you to see what you helped create,” George said, his affectionate smile filled her with his contagious warmth. They both put their arms around her shoulders as they leaned over the railing to their shop. They were doing so well they had enough funds to hire extra workers so they could continue their official education at Hogwarts. People swarmed over the goodies, everything from jokes to hair care products, smiles on their faces. The twin’s and their dream of bring happiness to people in a time of war was being realised, and Hermione wrapped her arms around their waists.

“It’s wonderful,” she said, meaning it.

“Has Harry been in to see it yet?”

The twins shook their heads. “Not yet,” Fred said. “We keep telling Ron to bring him in and show him around, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

“I think little brother doesn’t want him to see him working here,” George said, jutting his chin down towards the shop floor where Ron was busily assisting customers with various questions.

“He seems… like he’s getting on pretty well here, actually?” Hermione said, tilting her head to the side slightly.

“He does really well, actually,” George said. “As long as he thinks none of us are looking.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “He does a lot of things a lot better than he gives himself credit for,” she sighed sadly. “As long as it doesn’t involve expressing himself to me.”

George rubbed a spot on her shoulder blade that caused her to slump visibly. Fred and George exchanged glances at this discovery and began to rub her back at the same time. Hermione gave a soft groaning chirp and melted into them.

“I think we found the secret doomsday deactivation button, brother!” George said excitedly.

“Excellent,” Fred said, wiggling his brows.

They both worked on Hermione’s back until she leaned against George with half-lidded drowsiness.

“To be fair, little sis,” Fred said in a rare tone of seriousness. “Ron wouldn’t know he was holding a torch for you if it burned his eyebrows off. “And just when he was starting to, he realised he didn’t have a chance.”

“You do play so horribly hard to get, after all,” George ribbed her.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, despite the feeling of jelly legs she was getting from the back rubs. “How so?”

“Always so controlled, talented, and mysterious,” Fred chuckled. “Do you have any idea what that does to a poor hormonal teenage wizard?”

Hermione leaned over the railing, watching the store through half-closed eyes. “Obviously not.” She and Minerva were the only oestrogen representatives in the pack so far, and the day her Sky Brothers or Draco did anything remotely improper or descended into a hormone-induced drama was unheard of. It wasn’t like Fred and George went mental over the thought of a witch and lost all coherency and ability to communicate. The most dramatic thing that occurred was the occasional blow up between Petya and his brothers about the seemingly air-headed dates he brought “home” on occasion.

George rubbed the back of her neck. “Not to mention you’ve managed to ‘snag’ the Quidditch male idol he worshipped, Granger,” he chuckled. “He practically wanted to propose to him.”

Hermione make a choking sound as her mind tried to put Viktor together with Ron and her brain just stalled completely, threatening to shut down live giving impulses to to her head and lungs if she ever pondered anything that horrific again.

Viktor’s mental eyebrow raised through their bond as she accidentally shared the mental train wreck George and Fred had given her.

Severus’ mental horror shared through the bond as well, causing Hermione to cough a little more and send her heartfelt apologies through the bond.

:I’m going to rinse my brain matter with a cleansing potion and obliviate myself now,: Severus muttered.

Viktor sent her a strong image of him snogging her silly in public so everyone around knew that she was his witch and no one else was even a thought in his mind.

Hermione blushed crimson, burying her face into her arms as she tried to regain her composure.

:I’m sorry!: Hermione pleaded through the link. “So… so.. SORRY!:

She had a split second of warning as she felt the combined mischief of her Master and Viktor combine together before she was overwhelmed by mental tickle torture, and she fell flat back on the platform she was sharing with the twins, laughing hysterically.

They withdrew from her mind shortly after, leaving Fred and George looking at her with concerned expressions.

Hermione smiled sheepishly at them, wheezing slightly from the laughter.

Fred and George held out their hands to her. “You need to do that more often, Granger,” George said with a grin. “Laughter looks good on you.”

Hermione smirked as they pulled her up, and she put her hands on their heads and ruffled their hair mercilessly. “Thanks.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I didn’t realise the two of you were making a point to take care of Mr. Ollivander,” Hermione said as she and the twins walked towards his wand shop.

“He’s alone a lot of the time,” George said, hefting the basket of dinner items in his arms. “We didn’t realise how much until we opened the shop close to him.”

“He reminds us of our old Uncle on mum’s side of the family,” Fred said. “He and my Aunt shared a quaint little seaside cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth, Cornwall. We used to go there when we were little tikes and build these glorious sandcastles.”

George smiled broadly. “Uncle used to make these sand dragons out of the beach sand and shells. They’d fly around our sandcastles and perch on them.”

Hermione smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful memory.”

The twins nodded.

“Something happened though,” George said wistfully. “Shortly after Ginny was born.”

“We didn’t spend our summer holidays out there anymore,” Fred said. “We were never given a reason. Mum would just say we couldn’t afford to be away from home anymore with Ginny and all, but we knew it was something else.”

Hermione frowned and touched their arms together. “I’m sorry.”

Fred and George smile and nodded. “We have our wonderful memories.” George said. “Sometimes though, I wish Ginny could have known them. Auntie would have adored having a girl child to help spoil seeing how mum kind of got stuck with a house full of blokes.”

They arrived at Ollivander’s store as it was getting dark. Dark was relative, as it seemed like the sky was trying its best to encase them in fog and spit on them at the same time.

“I think I prefer Hogsmeade, to be honest,” Hermione said. “The snow doesn’t feel like I’m being rasp-berried by the sky.”

The twins laughed, opening the door for her gallantly with a bow and an curtsy.

“Master Ollivander,” Fred called. “We have brought you dinner.”

“Because we know you forget to feed yourself!” George added.

Warm laughter greeted them from the back. “Ah, my boys, you are too kind to me,” Ollivander’s voice called from the back. “How is it you always know when my stomach is growling?”

“Grand powers of divination, Master Ollivander,” Fred chuckled.

Hermione tilted her head as she looked around the store. The store had a very homelike feel to it, and she felt a certain welcoming warmth while within it, but as her sense of the store whirled into her mind, she noted there were no wards and no protections and that fact alone made her nervous. Master Ollivander was not an inexperienced Wizard, by any means, but to not ward his store seemed a little… foolish in the growing tension of Voldemort traipsing around. The part of her that had been used to raising and lowering wards on the entry and exit to Severus’ many warded rooms since she was twelve probably helped stoke her paranoia even more.

“Come on back, my friends, do come in,” Garrick’s voice called from the back. They came into the back where Garrick had cleared off a nice table for them all to sit down at. “I may not remember to feed myself, but I do remember how to brew myself tea,” he confessed, pouring tea out for his guests. “Ah, Apprentice Granger,” Garrick greeted warmly. “It is good to see you well. You are looking a bit peaked, however. Weather has been a bit dreary for you?”

Hermione smirked and nodded. “It is good to see you, Master Ollivander.”

“Sit, sit, enjoy dinner with me, as I see these two have packed far too much for one old man with only one stomach,” the elder wizard grinned at them.

The three of them grinned and made themselves comfortable, and as it turned out, Ollivander had many interesting stories tell. He had tales of the “glory days” when witches and wizards used to bring him items from around the world to make their wands. Some of them had been wondrous in the extreme, while others had been “worse than kneazle whiskers.”

Hermione smiled with the all of the stories, always happy to absorb more of them, and ones from Master Ollivander were definitely more interesting than some of the ones from the History of Magic. “Master Ollivander,” she asked respectfully after a particularly exciting tale of duelling wizards outside his shop ended. “Why is it you do not ward your shop?”

“I will admit to… a bit of addle-mindedness when it comes to such things, I fear,” he said softly. “My mind is always focused on the wand, the core, the mating of the pieces to make the perfect balance, but rarely on shielding the store. No one has ever attempted to steal from the store in all the days of my father or father’s father. Part of me is hopeful that it stays that way.”

Hermione tapped her fingers on the table and looked at him with concern. “I will admit to some concern for you, Master,” she said in return. “I would hate for something to happen to you while you are here alone.”

Ollivander chuckled. “I do appreciate it, my dear,” he replied, “but I hardly think after all these years I would suddenly become of interest to someone of less than honourable intentions.”

The prospect of losing someone with such a great treasure trove of wand lore and general knowledge troubled Hermione. Perhaps, it was being accustomed to living so intimately with her pack that made her feel like being alone was a curse worse than death. She could not imagine being without her bonds with her Master, her pack, and her mate. Even the distant thrum of Desmondon’s Mark upon her made up a part of her life, as if to prove she couldn’t be truly “alone” even if she wanted to. Not that she did.

The bell to the door rang and Ollivander smiled, calling out, “be with you in a moment!”

Vik was at alert immediately, his wings fluttering as he stood on the edge of the table.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as her senses went out, lips parting as the breeze from the open door brought the scent of who had entered to her. She stiffened. The scent of old blood was mixed in the air. She jerked her head to the twins. “Protect him,” she mouthed silently.

Ollivander looked like he was getting up to answer the door, but Hermione placed her hand on his gently, shaking her head. She motioned with her chin for him to go with Fred and George, who now had their wands out to escort him further in the back.

Hermione silently thanked Alastor for pushing the paperwork to get her trace taken off early after the incident with the werewolves. After being cleared by the Ministry for “lawful self defence after an extreme attack from werewolves” as well as a laundry list of reasons why it was ludicrous for an Apprentice to be restricted from using her magic outside of Hogwarts considering it was her job to do so whenever and wherever her Master deigned it necessary, the trace was taken off. It had been in the works since Severus has taken her officially as his apprentice, but everything had been lost, found, re-lost, relocated, placed on a desk, buried, and then lost again with all the “drama” under Fudge’s reign of terror at the Ministry of Magic.

:Death Eaters at Ollivander’s in Diagon Alley,: Hermione sent the thought zinging out through the mental tether to her Master and mate. :I’m here with Fred and George. They are protecting Master Ollivander. I… am trying to get a bead on them.:

:How many?: came Severus’ mind voice.

:I come,: came Viktor’s.

:At least two,: Hermione replied. :No… three.: Her nostrils flared as she pulled out her wand and bent into a half crouch, moving around the shelves with extra slow movements.

:I’ll contact Alastor,: Severus replied. :Be careful.:

:Of course, my Master,: she sent back.

Cerberus growled at her side, and she touched his middle head silently, signalling for the hunt. The three-headed dog, went into a stalking crouch, belly low to the ground, black eyes and swivelling ears focused in three different directions.

Hermione signalled with her hand, and Cerberus started to move around in the opposite direction. It was like hunting deer in the brush. Stay hidden. Block the exits. Take out the weakest.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. And bring out the home advantage… She waved her wand and all the lights in the store went dark.

Cursing filled the store from multiple directions, giving away their positions.

:There are four, my Master,: Hermione said, her head tilting slightly, her mind was descending into the hunt. The Death Eaters were becoming prey.

She placed her hand on Vik, brushing her hand across his wings. He rubbed up against her fingers and then flew off into the darkness.

Vik started toppling things from the shelves in random places, and the room lit up with offensive spells from the spooked Death Eaters.

Hermione smirked. Good. Waste your energy on nothing. Tell me exactly where you are. She plastered herself in a cubby-hole, her back flat against the wall. Dark robes went drifting by her, and she extended her talons and snapped outward, dragging the Death Eater to her. She jerked her armoured hand across their masked face, ripping off the mask as her hand moved across their mouth and nose, and her opposing hand slammed her wand into their body and hissed, “Stupefy!”

The Death Eater went limp, sliding to the ground in silence.

Hermione looked into the darkness. She heard fighting in the back, Fred and George’s voices rang out and spells went zinging through the darkness, knocking things off the shelves. She heard a low thud of something or someone hitting the ground.

More things fell from the shelves, and more spells went shooting through the darkness. Hermione smiled grimly, thanking Alastor for her intensive drilling in blind combat and scare tactics. There was a low triple growl and a thud, followed by a scream as Cerberus found his prey. There was the sound of struggle and dragging in the dark, but Hermione didn’t need to see to know exactly what Cerberus did with his prey. She had seen it time and time again and had very little pity.

There was a clatter outside the store, an abrupt yell, and a scream cut off. There was strangely nothing else coming from outside a moment later, so apparently Viktor had descended upon the guards in full stealth and merciless precision, not even alerting a passersby to the commotion.

:Two guards outside,: Viktor’s mind voice came to her in confirmation. :No longer issue.:

That left one more in the store, or two, if the one that was fighting Fred and George was still roaming around. She knew she couldn’t assume they succeeded any more than she could assume they failed to protect Ollivander. One Death Eater at a time.

:One possibly two left,: she sent to Viktor.

A low growl sounded nearby. “I smell you, human,” came a raspy voice. “I will enjoy tearing you apart bone…by…bone.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared. Werewolf. Judging by his charming personality, it was probably Fenrir. A part of her wondered why it was so obvious to her that he was a werewolf, but save Remus, who knew her scent intimately, Fenrir identified her only as a human. Merlin knew that the hippogriffs definitely new the difference between a full human and a certain animagus gryphon. Hermione went down into a half crouch again, lips parted as she scented the air.

Fenrir’s scent was a mixture of man and beast, but unlike Remus, who smelled of the forest loam after a rain, Fenrir smelled of a strong almost putrid musk and of a man and beast in the need of a shower. There was an almost greasy odour. Layers of scent mixed with dried blood that he hadn’t even bothered to wash off. He smelled… unclean… like he really didn’t give a flip about anything but his next murderous meal, the last of which, he was still wearing on his robes. No wonder Remus believed his condition to be nothing but cursed with such a horrid role-model as an example.

Fenrir was growling, and it hit a strange note within Hermione. She replied in kind, allowing the rumbling of the gryphon to answer him. Speak to me with your beast, monster, she thought to him, and I will show you mine. The sound seemed to bring Fenrir up short as his beast was trying to tell him something. Sadly or fortunately, Fenrir wasn’t listening to his beast inner animal.

“Think you can take a real monster, do you?” Fenrir taunted. “That’s why I take ‘em young. They learn quick who to obey.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared, and a deadly calm came over her. He wasn’t a true challenger to her territory. He was posturing, but there was a quality that wasn’t the same. He hadn’t given off the right signals. It was as though his signals weren’t compatible. He was trying to threaten a human, and her human side was not as weak as he wanted to believe. Her gryphon and human aspects were one in the same.

Hermione crouched down, her head tilting to the side, her mouth parted as she scented the room. She moved slowly in the darkness, her footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. She could hear him moving in the darkness, his wand sending out light. He was relying on his human senses. A part of Hermione registered that as ironic for one known for his animalistic traits. He was failing utterly at using them. Perhaps, he was simply using his animal as an excuse to be a monster. It would explain… much.

Just as she was about to move towards him again, she sensed a movement near her and she immediately dove to the side as a spell slammed into the ground where she had been standing. She tumbled across the floor and kicked her leg out like Moody had drilled into her over and over again. Her attacker stumbled forward, losing their footing with a curse, wand skittering off into the darkness as the lighting spell faded.

Hermione whipped her arm around, slamming the back of her arm into the back of the Death Eater’s neck and head, slamming their face straight into the hardwood floor with an audible crack. The body went limp almost instantly. Her count was off or this was the one that Fred and George had been fighting. The back part of her brain was pleading for her to show some heart and check on her friends. The practical side of her that was fighting a group of Death Eaters and a werewolf promptly told her sentimental side to shut the front door. There was a trickle of blood forming under the Death Eater’s broken face.

“Better to repair their face later and apologise than be wrong and have them get up and kill you,” Moody had said. Forget animagi and werewolves. Moody was scary as hell all on his own human self.

The werewolf was now running her direction, and Hermione rolled out of the way, blending back into the shadows and many hidden nooks Ollivander’s store happily provided her.

As if coordinated, there was a rustling of paws against the floor running in one direction just as Vik toppled something from atop a shelf in another direction.

“Avada Ke—”

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione snapped, and the werewolf’s wand went flying off into a direction unknown.

The werewolf looked murderously in her direction as his wand went flying, and she saw any sense of reason leave with it. He started towards her, uncaring that she was still holding her her wand.

Hermione prepared to send out another spell as three stupefies went zinging out and blasted him square in the chest and flung him into a far shelf. Hundreds of wand boxes fell on top of his stunned body.

Viktor came around the corner, his wand still raised cautiously as Fred and George came from the other side, Ollivander behind them.

Hermione waved her wand to restore the lights in the store.

Ollivander stared at his store, running his hand through his hair. “Well my dear,” he said after a time. “It appears I owe you an apology for being wrong and very grateful dinner.”

Viktor rubbed Hermione’s shoulders and examined her for wounds, not stopping until he was sure she was undamaged. She leaned into him gratefully.

The store front door opened with a light jingle causing all of them to point wands towards the front of the store.

Alastor Moody and a handful of Aurors spilt into the store and their gazes went from Hermione, to the twins, to Viktor, the multiple Death Eaters scattered across the store floor, and one smug looking three-headed dog sitting at Ollivander’s feet as the elder wizard pet him.

“I should just put you on the payroll,” Moody grunted as the Aurors tucked away their wands and set to work binding up the unconscious Death Eaters. “Scrimgeour is going to start wondering why every reward is going to the same people.”

Hermione blinked. “There’s a reward?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“You realise how silly this is, right?” Hermione grumbled as she brushed her teeth over the sink and rinsed out her mouth.

Severus swished water around in his mouth and spit it out after her. “You having to apparate to London to take the train back to Hogwarts because you are still, technically a student? Don’t get me started.”

“I’m already here, Father,” Hermione complained. “All of my stuff is here. My Master is here. My familiar is here. My three-headed dog is here. My Family is here. Merlin… my house-elf is here. Can’t they make an exception?”

Severus’ shoulders were shaking slightly. His face was impassive, but his eyes were shining with amusement.

Vik chirped from his bed of scrolls on Severus’ desk.

“My hippogriff is here!” Hermione protested. “Come on!”

Severus stared down into Hermione’s eyes. He opened his arm to her and she stepped into it automatically, burying her face into his chest as she took a deep breath. He placed his hand against the back of her head and pressed her into him with a chuckle. “Are you quite through, my daughter?”

Hermione sighed into his chest. “Perhaps.”

“I supposed it was inevitable that one day you would prove to me that you are fully capable of whining like some stereotypical example of your House,” Severus said with a smirk.

Hermione beat on his chest with her hands.

“Takes out a full party of Death Eaters directly after dinner,” Severus said. “Whines that she has to take the train to school like everyone else.”

Hermione mumbled things that may or may not have been in Bulgarian into his robes.

Severus stroked her head gently, soothing her hair with soft pats. “Look at it this way, my daughter,” he said with a smirk. “You get to go on holiday and spend time with your friends for a few days before being forced to come back and suffer my lesson plans that will undoubtedly make many of my students cry before lunch hour.”

“Oh that makes it all better, father,” Hermione snorted into his pocket.

“Did you… just snuffle my pocket?” Severus asked.

“I can’t help myself,” Hermione confessed. “There is something wonderful you’re hiding in it.”

“I am not hiding anything in my pocket, daughter,” Severus corrected. “I simply have something in my pocket.”

“Well it smells wonderful,” Hermione said, sticking her nose against his pocket and snuffling more enthusiastically.

“What is it?” Hermione said in between snuffles.

“Gryphon bait, apparently,” Severus said dryly.

Severus rolled his eyes, dipping his fingers into his pocket and pulling out a small blue vial. “Ylang Ylang oil. I’m testing it in one of my tonics for the store. Possibly in a lotion or…” Severus raised an eyebrow as Hermione was practically pressed up against him and the bottle clutched in his fingers. “Hair tonic,” he finished.

“Sounds wonderful,” Hermione said, taking in a large whiff and smiling.

Severus shook his head and pried his daughter off his Ylang Ylang oil bottle. “I will teach you how to make it when it is finished, now toddle off to the Burrow before Molly thinks I am chaining you to my laboratory as free slave labour.”

Hermione took in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Fine, fine, my Master. I shall leave you to enjoy the time without my insufferable company!” She spun on her heels and exited out the door. She poked her head back in a moment. “But I’m leaving Crooks and the pup with you to keep you company because you’ll miss me!” she taunted and disappeared down the corridor with Vik fluttering lazy circles around her head.

Severus looked down at the three-headed pup that was staring back up at him adoringly and the half-Kneazle that was curled up on his mantle.

:Insufferable know-it-all,: he said softly.

:I’ll miss you too, Father,: came her instant reply and warmth travelled down the link.

Severus’ mouth quirked upward.

 


	80. Year Six : Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione helps the stores of Diagon Alley by doing what they want most: buying things!

**Chapter 80: Year Six: Diagon Alley**

Tom, proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron, looked absolutely ecstatic when Harry shambled in with the Weasleys on their way to Diagon Alley. The place was seemingly abandoned, save him, and while Hagrid, who had met the group outside the door wished to push on through, Hermione saw how disappointed the wizened older wizard looked when he saw they weren’t going to have anything.

“Come on,” Hermione insisted. “Let’s at least have some lunch. We have the whole place to ourselves.”

Molly Weasley looked dubious and nervous, but Arthur seemed perfectly happy with the idea. Molly fretted that they hadn’t brought enough to pay for supplies and lunch, but Arthur insisted they would have enough.

As it turned out, Hermione surreptitiously slipped Tom a few coins as she went to order drinks and bring them back. He smiled at her warmly, appreciating her business in a troubled time. Tom turned up at the table with a large spattering of different sandwiches and soups, all, he said, on the house in celebration of a few less Death Eaters blessing the streets.

The spoils from wrangling a pack of irate werewolves and a party of Death Eaters, including one Fenrir Greyback, had added significantly to Hermione’s funds, and while she didn’t say so in front of Molly, Arthur knew that she had generously shared the rewards with Fred and George to help with their business, and what didn’t go directly into helping the twins’ business found its way back to Arthur to help the rest of the family. All of it was under Molly’s worried radar.

Arthur had appreciated Hermione’s tact in doing what she did, stating that his wife, bless her, was fretting ever so much more with Voldemort on the rampage, and she had even taken to carrying around the family clock to keep a constant eye on everyone’s “mortal peril” status. Every little bit of help took a little of the pressure off, and the extra funds provided Arthur more wiggle room for affording things for school supplies for Ron and Ginny, some new clothes instead the constantly repaired hand-me-downs, and also allowed him to provide little things here and there that Molly needed but always seemed too feel guilty asking for. Hermione said Arthur was welcome to make up any excuse that made the best sense or to blame it on his job promotion, which was an entirely respectable reason to be able to afford to go out to eat every so often. Arthur had smiled and agreed.

Hermione had thrown the rest of the rewards she had earned from the werewolf bounties into the Aerie’s communal account as having already paid for her school supplies left her with few if any pressing needs. The pack took care of each other, and she could no more think of not sharing the spoils with her pack mates than she could refuse to breathe. Where one prospered, so too did the rest.

The lunch had hit the spot quite well, and their sitting in the tavern and enjoying themselves seemed to attract others into doing the same, and soon Tom was happily serving multiple tables.

By the time all of them had finished their generous servings and left tips for the older wizard, the tavern was bustling once more, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile, knowing that many of the businesses had been suffering varying amounts of stress due to the Death Eater scares. Morale had not been abysmal, thanks to a few Death Eaters being mysteriously “taken care of” in the middle of the night, but people were still wary. For every Death Eater they imprisoned, countless others could be waiting in the back lines, and no one but the Dark Lord knew how many that was.

Molly seemed nervous to allow the “children” off by themselves, and Hagrid tutted, saying he would watch Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the nearby clothing store if Molly wanted to take Ginny off to get her books.

Madam Malkin was fussing over someone as they walked in. She had a poor young wizard with his arms up as she busily went about pinning things to the right length.

A younger witch greeted Hermione warmly. “Hello! Are you here for your fitting?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied. “How did you know?”

“Only one witch would come around for a fitting for these,” the witch replied with a grin, bringing out a bundle of the blackest cloth in the store. “You can put these on behind the screen and hop up on the stand when you are all situated, love.”

Hermione smiled and darted behind the dressing screen, and came out dressed in what could very well have been, even darker black than she had been wearing previously.

Hermione held her arms up and the seamstress set to work pinning and trimming as she went.

“Thought I smelled something,” Draco’s voice broke the sound of fabric rustling.

Hermione’s gaze met his. Her hand gestured slightly. “Hi!”

Draco smirked back at her. “Hi, Ari!”

“New robes, eh?” Hermione gestured. “Fabric looks expensive.”

“Mother’s guilt present,” he signalled, his eyes moving to the ceiling. “Ow!” he said verbally. “Watch where you’re pinning, you evil woman.”

Madam Malkin tutted Draco, moving to adjust his sleeve.

“She okay?” asked Hermione, making it look like she had an itch.

“She’s taking it hard,” Draco said. “Lonely. Was lonely when I left for school. Now worse.”

Hermine tilted her head, nodding to him. “Understand. Felt lonely at the Burrow. Even with people around.”

“Uncle want you in darker black?” Draco signalled. “Weren’t blocking out enough sun for him?”

“Ha, ha, Coils,” Hermione signalled.

Draco’s eyes shined as he stifled a grin, forcing his face to remain aloof and arrogant.

Ron spun around as he realised whose voice was sniping at the elder seamstress. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“Replacing my old robes, seeing as this is the place such things are done,” Draco said coldly. “What are you doing here, Weasel? Rip a new hole in your hand-me-down robes?” The blond Slytherin sneered at Ron.

Ron had his wand out before anyone could stop him, pointing it at Draco as though he had done far more than insult his clothing.

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed, diving for his arm. “Put that away! It’s just Malfoy.”

“No wands drawn in my shop now,” Madam Malkin admonished, pins stuck between her lips as she adjusted Draco’s robes.

Hermione had gone completely still, her eyes darkening. She stared into Ron as if evaluating his soul for the Afterlife.

Harry eyed the dangerous transformation in Hermione’s demeanour. She seemed taller. Her gaze was as cold as her Master’s. Draco’s eyes were so light they had become silver instead of grey. He watched Ron with a new stillness that Harry recognised. It was the stillness of a predator… the coiled snake ready to strike.

Ron, seemingly oblivious, looked about ready to start throwing spells, and no one seemed to be able to figure out why.

“Ron,” Harry said, shaking his arm. “We’re here to get new robes, mate. Just ignore him.”

Ron gritted his teeth and put up his wand, allowing Harry to pull him further in the back, where a pleasant looking witch looked up from a pile of fabric as if noticing them for the first time. She set about fitting them for their new robes for the upcoming term.

“What was that about?” Draco signed to Hermione silently.

“No idea,” Hermione gestured back. “Usually it’s Ron telling Harry that ‘it’s just Malfoy.’”

“I’ll avoid poking the beehive if I can,” Draco signalled.

Hermione nodded as the seamstress clapped her hands. “There you go, dear,” she said. “All done.”

Hermione smiled and nodded to the seamstress.

“How many of them would you like me to make up for you, love? I can send them off to Hogwarts for you, no problem,” the seamstress said with a smile.

“Enough for a week would be wonderful, Seamstress,” Hermione said with a smile.

“I’ll make up eight of them for you, love,” she replied. “Just in case you end up covered in something unspeakable in those dreadful laboratories.”

Hermione stiffed a laugh, but didn’t bother to disagree with her. “I appreciate it, thank you.” Hermione looked around the store and saw that it was, like many of the businesses in Diagon Alley, suffering from a lack of regular customers due to the rise in Death Eater activity. She dreaded to think what it would be like if she and the twins hadn’t been there looking in on Master Ollivander the night the Death Eaters just sauntered in. Panic and fear mongering was horrible for business, and Voldemort’s touch was bringing more of that than the unity his twisted brain came up with.

“You know, why don’t you make enough for two weeks, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble?” Hermione said. “That way I can be really lazy and do my laundry only twice month like a proper lazy teenager.” Hermione dove behind the screen to put on her regular robes and came back out again. Little Vik pranced on the top of the dressing screen, chirping in approval.

The seamstress’s eyes went wide with excitement. She exchanged happy glances with Madam Malkin.

“We’d be happy to, dear,” Madam Malkin said warmly, pinning the last of the pins into Draco’s long robes. “You be sure to let us know if you need anything in a pinch. We have your measurements, so it wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

Hermione smiled and nodded politely as she signed for her robes and plunked down the appropriate amount of coins for their service. She looked around the store, and only Draco was there, giving her a shrug.

“Excuse me, Seamstress,” Hermione said to the woman in the back. “What happened to the two wizards that were in here with me? One has short black hair, the other red?”

“They left as soon as the red-head got his robes,” the witch said. “The one seemed really eager to leave, so the other followed.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. She turned to Draco, who was putting on his regular clothes. “See you soon, brother,” she signed, giving him a disgusted grimace.

Draco gave her a cold glare, but he signed, “Can’t wait until we’re home again.”

Hermione turned and left the store, smiling to herself.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

There was an pristine white owl sitting on a perch outside Eeylop’s Owl Emporium. She whistled cheerfully Hermione, fluttering her wings.

Hermione paused outside the store, giving a soft reply chirp.

The owl hooted excitedly, bobbing her head.

Hermione made a soft eagle chittering sound.

This seemed to please the owl even more, and she stuck out her leg, hopped over onto her arm, and talon walked up her arm and sat on her shoulder and hooted to her softly.

“Um… hi!” Hermione said with a little surprise.

The white owl rubbed up against her face, nibbling on her cheek with a gentle working of her beak.

Hermione took in the glow of her snowy white feathers and her heart-shaped facial disc. Unlike other barn owls Hermione had seen before, this one was lacking of any colour other than white on her feathers. The only other spots of colour were her dark black eyes and tawny and sienna coloured legs. Glossy black claws gripped Hermione’s robes, but she seemed perfectly aware of how much pressure to put on the cloth to remain stable but not tear into the fabric. Having been tangled in multiple blankets, carpets, and miscellaneous fabrics with her own talons, she had to admire the owl for her talent.

Hermione fished into one of her multiple bottomless pockets and pulled out an owl nut for the interloper on her shoulder. The grasped it in her talons and tore into it, hooting gratefully.

“Now you’ve done it,” a soft chuckle called from the door. “You’ll never be rid of her.”

Hermione grinned at the elder Wizard standing in the door. He was of shorter stature, had a stern looking face, but kind eyes. Having practically grown up on the Severus Snape Handbook of Contradictory Expressions, she had no problem picking up the man’s kindness hidden behind his eyes.

He approached and stuck out his hand to the white owl, but the owl snubbed him, turning her head away from his hand and ignored him.

“Aw, Athena,” the wizard said. “Don’t be like that, dear. You know I didn’t abandon you. See? I’m back, just as I promised.”

Athena stared into Hermione’s hair, unimpressed.

The elder wizard shook his head. “I fear I will have to grovel to gain her affections once again.”

Hermione smiled, placing her hand against the owl’s soft feathers. The owl nibbled at her fingers gently,

“Please, my goddess,” the wizard implored. “I beseech you turn your gaze back to me.”

Hermione stifled a chuckled as the owl continued to snub him.

“That must have been a downright magical owl nut you gave her, young woman,” the wizard chuckled. “Normally that gets me back into her favour.”

Athena hooted softly into Hermione’s ear, tickling her.

“Perhaps… if you offered her a bribe?” Hermione suggested.

“Normally the only other thing that works…” the wizard started to say as a cheerful elderly witch came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“There you are, Selwyn,” she purred. “I’m glad you didn’t get too far ahead with the shopping.”

Selwyn chuckled lowly. “I couldn’t get far, my dear, Calla” he said honestly. “Our owl has affixed herself to someone with a permanent sticking charm.”

“Not again,” the witch said with mock horror. The witch had a pale complexion but rosy cheeks. Her eyes were a startling ice blue that complimented her silver hair. She had just enough wrinkles to make her smile seem all the more endearing, and she looked at Hermione with an evaluating look.

“Our Athena knows a good witch when she finds one,” the witch said after a while. “Sadly, once she does, she doesn’t like letting go of them,” she added with a laugh.

“Won’t you let your friend go about her business, my darling?” she cooed at the owl.

Athena hooted, but cuddled up closer to Hermione’s hair.

“Oh dear,” Calla chuckled. “I fear we must bring out the secret weapon.

Hermione raised her eyebrows as the kindly witch pulled out a tin from her robes and held out a frog. She felt the conflict radiate off her white feathered passenger until finally the want of the tasty treat won out. Athena rubbed her face against Hermione’s cheek affectionately and perhaps apologetically, and allowed the elderly witch to bribe her off Hermione’s shoulder onto hers, where she proceeded to tear into the frog with hungry enthusiasm.

Selwyn clapped Hermione on the shoulder. “Thanks for being such a good sport about Athena, my dear,” he said. “Most people find it a bit disconcerting to have a random owl glue themselves to them.”

Hermione chuckled. With all the things that she found herself randomly perched on by, from miniature hippogriffs to her Sky Brothers, random flybys by Pigwidgeon, and the occasional Hedwig, Hermione was used to being a travel perch.

“Well, now I’m a bit hungry for something,” Selwyn commented. “Let’s go see what Tom can rustle up for us over at the Leaky Cauldron, shall we?”

Calla nodded to her husband, and Athena hooted cheerfully.

“That settles it,” Selwyn laughed. “It was fine meeting you, young lady Apprentice.”

The elder wizard laughed as Hermione’s eyes widened.

Selwyn pointed to her Apprenticeship sigils at her throat. “I may be getting old, but I still have eyes.”

Hermione smiled at him and bowed her head. “Have a good afternoon. It was good meeting you.”

They turned and left, and Hermione felt a pang of sadness as the white owl hooted mournfully as she was carried away by her people. She shook her head. She did not need any more feathered, furred, or scaled additions to the family. She really didn’t. And she definitely was not going to hijack an elderly couple’s owl!

Harry came out of Eeylop’s with a few boxes of owl nuts. “Hey, Hermione,” he greeted. “Sorry, we left you without saying anything, but we were done with our fittings quickly and it looked like you were still being pinned to death back at Madam Malkin’s. We figured we had time to get some nuts for Hedwig and Pig and get back before you were done.”

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “Where is Ron?”

Harry looked a little embarrassed. “He’s… uh…”

Hermione arched a brow.

“Just don’t take anything out on me, okay?” Harry pleaded.

Hermione gave him the patented Snape “your excuse better be phenomenal, Potter,” expression.

Harry pointed over to the nearby alley.

Hermione’s eyes flicked over to the alley. She admonished herself for letting her guard and awareness down that she hadn’t noticed Ron in the alley, but a part of her had been charmingly disarmed by the sociable owl. Moody would admonish her for letting herself be distracted by cuteness.

Her eyes focused on the only bit of red hair she could find in the crowd, and Ron was…

“Merlin!” Hermione gasped.

“He’s kept it secret even from me,” Harry said. “I didn’t know until Lavender fell on him inside Eyelops.”

Hermione averted her eyes, which was difficult because it was a lot like trying not to stare at a train wreck. “I wouldn’t worry about me, Harry. I’m more worried about you and him sharing the same quarters with… that going on.”

Harry looked horrified, having not thought about that particular detail at all.

“You know, Harry,” Hermione said, a very Slytherin look crossing her face. “You could always beat him at his own game.”

Harry looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“Oh, come off it, Harry,” Hermione snorted. “You make it sound like dating someone will make you come down with some sort of dragon pox. The least you could do is date the lady of your choice properly before you descend into…” Hermione waved her hand over to the alley in a gesture much like her father’s, “whatever that is.”

Harry still looked horrified at the very idea of admitting he really liked someone enough to want to date them, let alone have the gumption to ask them out.

“Where did Hagrid run off to?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, grateful for the chance in subject. “He said he had to see a man about a goat,” Harry said with puzzlement. “I had no idea he even had a goat.”

Hermione very carefully schooled her expression into something less concerned. “You know Hagrid. If it’s not illegally breeding acromantulas in the forest, he’s doing something else he considers harmless.”

Harry shook his head. “I guess. Goats seem a little strange for Hagrid. He prefers more exciting things that can kill you.”

Hermione gave him a shrug.

There were a number of new vendor stalls popping up in Diagon Alley, and the nearest one had a seedy looking wizard watching over entire table full of cheap looking pendants. A sign on the table stated: Protective Amulets - Keep your loved ones safe from Dark Creatures!

There were pendants with various runic tracings on them, each had tags that supposedly protected against types of Dark creatures varying from werewolves, dementors, lethifolds, and inferi.

Hermione’s eyebrow went into her hair as her fingers tapped the runic inscriptions. They were pretty, ornate, inscriptions, but utterly useless. Most of the runes were wrong for the task, even if they had been empowered, but none of them were. The only charm she felt upon the pendants was an impulse to have one. Unscrupulous vendor magic that had there been more people around, perhaps, he would have been ousted, but with the growing empty streets, this particular vendor got away with his shady and useless dealings.

The vendor, upon seeing her, seemed to take her for a another witch. Perhaps it was her overly pale complexion and the roll of her magical aura or even the strength of her control, but the man shrunk back from her. “Nothing here for you, my Lady,” he simpered. He wrung his hands and avoided her gaze as one would avoid looking into the face of Bellatrix Lestrange. “Nothing worthy to grace your neck.”

Hermione’s lip curled up derisively, but she turned and said nothing, pulling Harry along with her.

“What was that about?” Harry nudged her as they left the vendor.

“We should let Mr. Weasley know about that vendor. He’s selling rubbish that will get someone killed thinking it will protect them against Dark creatures,” Hermione said with disdain.

“No, I meant,” Harry said. “Why would he call you a Lady?”

Hermione eyed Harry. “Harry, are you saying I am not a lady?”

Harry tripped over his own vocabulary. “Yes. I mean no… It’s just…” Harry looked at her pleadingly. “You know what I mean. You’re not the Lady of a Lord.”

Hermione was smirking at him in amusement. “I have no idea, Harry. It’s hard to say what any of these people are thinking.”

Harry sighed and nodded. “Diagon Alley is just getting weird, if you ask me.” They passed a booth selling various types of snake oil rubbish that both of them rolled their eyes at.

“You would think,” Hermione said stonily, “that in a world where magic is at our fingertips, people still can’t tell the difference between that which works and that… hogwash.”

“People are people, Hermione,” Harry said. “I’m just glad the Dursleys weren’t magical.”

Hermione looked at Harry in horror. “Eugh.”

“Exactly,” Harry chuckled.

They stopped as they passed the cluttered window to Ollivanders. Harry looked into the window with curiosity.

“Let’s go in and say hello,” Hermione said, opening the door for Harry.

Harry looked puzzled, but allowed himself to be herded in.

“Good afternoon, Master Ollivander,” Hermione called.

There was a loud thump and the sound of padding feet shortly before Hermione was plastered onto her back with a large black panther sitting on top her, slamming his head into her jaw and cheek.

“Oof!” Hermione grunted. “Well hello to you too, Ebony.”

The sound of Ollivander trudging up the aisle combined with his chuckle. “You have no one to blame but yourself, young woman,” Garrick laughed.

“I’ll have you know, I just crafted the shape!” Hermione protested. “The personality is all Viktor’s!”

Harry boggled as the huge inky black panther that was sitting atop Hermione’s body laid down across her chest, rolling onto its side and purring like a large overgrown house cat.

“Everything okay here, Master Ollivander?” Hermione chucked, rubbing the panther under the chin and pulling herself up to a sitting position.

“Everything has been just fine since Alastor was finally satisfied that all the wards were properly made, set, and armed,” Garrick chuckled. “When Ebony here pounced on some poor Auror that came in to check on him, he was convinced that I could be left ‘alone’ again.”

Hermione smiled, patting the construct panther on the head. “Pounced on an Auror, huh?” she asked the panther.

Ebony purred and leaned against her, whapping her with his long tail.

“I will admit,” Ollivander said with a smile. “He does keep this old man company. It was very kind of you to craft him for me.”

“Someone had to make use of that huge ebony log you had in the back, Master,” Hermione said with a grin. “Now you can’t trip over it anymore and blame Fred and George for moving it on you.”

Garrick pshed, but his eyes were warm and amused. “True, true. I’ll just blame them for moving my chair around in stead.”

“Business been okay?” Harry asked curiously. “Some of the other stores… are a bit empty.”

“Well the one thing a new wizard and witch can’t do without is a wand, I fear,” Ollivander said with a chuckle. “There are other wand makers, I suppose, but I’ve yet to lose a customer to another wand maker in this part of the country. I’ve had quite a steady trickle of customers gracing my store.”

Harry had a look of concern on his face. “Is one construct going to be enough if something breaks through the wards?”

Hermione was grinning.

“What?” Harry said. “It’s an honest question!”

“Harry,” Hermione said. “Remember the time when Fred and George tried to enchant one of my teacups to bite me?”

“Sure…” Harry said.

“Remember what I did to them?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “You made it so it would replicate if a spell hit it?

“You bet,” Hermione said, wiggling her eyebrows like one of the Weasley twins.

“Brilliant,” Harry laughed.

Ebony purred and rubbed up against Ollivander.

“Hey now, you big lug,” the wand maker said. “Now that you’ve sufficiently greeted your friend, I’d appreciate it if you looked less apt to tear my customers to pieces.”

The ebony panther looked like he was pouting.

Ollivander tutted.

Ebony jumped up onto the counter and landed as a small black house cat and curled up on the counter, looking terribly innocent.

Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Viktor’s idea,” Hermione said. “He said it would make him less conspicuous and a little disarming.

Harry, who was already rubbing the cat under the jaw, blushed. “Viktor is right.”

Hermione laughed and nodded.

Ollivander gave his guardian cat a few ear scritches and smiled.

There was a knock on the window and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waved at them to come join them outside. Ginny had her arms full of books for the upcoming term.

“I think that is your cue, Apprentice Granger,” Ollivander chuckled. “And yours, Mr. Potter.”

Harry grinned. “Nice see you again, Mr. Ollivander. And nice meeting you, Ebony.” He gave the “house cat” an affectionate pat.

Ebony yawned toothily, showing pearly white teeth.

Hermione nodded to Garrick and smiled, heading out the door to rejoin the Weasleys with Harry.

“Well then,” Ollivander said, absently stroking the cat under the chin. “Whatever shall we do with ourselves?”

Ebony rubbed his head against Ollivander’s hand, his sparking green stone eyes telling him that as long as he didn’t stop rubbing, he was game for anything.

Garrick chuckled, shaking his head. “Loaf about like lazy sods it is then.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was one of the few places that was still attracting notably “normal” amounts of business in Diagon Alley, and after a bit of a wait, everyone had a heaping helping of ice cream as they say chatting away outside the parlour.

Harry had a soft spot for Florean ever since the man had helped him with his History of Magic homework and made sure he was never left wanting for ice cream that particular summer he had bunked down at the Leaky Cauldron.

Florean had an easy going expression on his face most of the time. His mousy brown hair and beard framed his kind eyes and in many ways he looked like a less traumatised and browner aspect of his godfather… had his godfather not been thrown into Azkaban, had to watch his best friends die, and been the victim of countless mental tortures while being forced to keep the company of Dementors, that is. Harry shuddered. Considering all the horrible things that had happened to both himself and those he cared about, he really had every reason to make sure it didn’t keep happening.

After about a half hour of non-stop orders, the parlour slowed down a bit, causing the roar of talking to quiet down to where they could hear each other without resorting to a sonorous charm.

Ginny was giggling over the enchanted penguins sliding down her chocolate and vanilla swirled sundae. It had been a fairly new enchantment Florean had come up with to make his sundaes more fun for kids, and judging by the delight on Ginny’s face, the age of the kid didn’t matter in the slightest.

Harry was watching an ice cream polar bear fishing through a “hole” in his ice cream iceburg, and every so often a fish would flip out of the hole and slap the bear across the muzzle and dive back down into the ice cream float. Harry found that it was the little things like… enchanted ice cream bears that made the Wizarding world so endearing to the boy who had realised he was special until the haggard looking giant of a man had come to take him to Hogwarts. Real magic had so much more power to bring happiness, yet people were trying to kill each other with it instead.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were sharing a sundae together, and ice cream mountain goats were frolicking across the ice cream mountains.

Hermione, strangely enough, had a seemingly tame root beer float. At first Harry thought it had no magic in it at all until he saw an ice cream otter frolicking in the root beer, swimming around her straw. She was looking at it almost wistfully, as if it held some great memory she was reliving while watching it dive under the root beer and pop back up.

“Where’s Ron?” Ginny asked, her mouth rimmed in ice cream.

Harry gave her a frantic shake of the head, pleading with her to stop that question right there. Ginny looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Come on, Harry,” Ginny insisted. “You were with him!”

A few seconds later, Mrs. Weasley started to wring her hands with concern, telling her husband that maybe he had been abducted, or was in trouble, and maybe they should make a search party, or call the Aurors, and Hermione and Harry glared at Ginny with a promising look of torturous pain and death.

Ginny shrunk down into her seat, grabbing her ice cream closer to herself.

The damage was done, however, and Mrs. Weasley demanded to know why Ron wasn’t with Harry and where he had last seen him and why he thought it was a good idea to leave him alone. Harry, slammed his head down against the table a few times.

“He wasn’t… alone, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “He made it quite clear he didn’t want my company.”

“What?” she replied. “Why in blazes would he say that?”

Arthur, putting two and two together a little faster, cleared his throat and attempted to defuse the storm that was his wife before she started calling the Aurors and creating a panic.

Hermione and Harry averted their eyes from Mrs. Weasley, not wanting to provoke her in any way or say anything that would set her off again while simultaneously kicking Ginny on the shins under the table for opening her big mouth.

As it turned out, Hagrid was the one who finally defused the tension at the table by showing up just in time with a large collection of something resembling bricks.

“What’s with the bricks, Hagrid?” Harry asked as the half-giant sat down at the table roughly, causing everyone to lunge to keep their ice cream from toppling off the table.

“Mineral blocks for me new goats,” the half-giant said cheerfully. “Gotta make sure they are all getting the right nutrition and all that.”

Hermione’s eyes slid over towards Hagrid as her head snapped to attention. “Goats?”

“Aw right,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “Ended up with a charming billy goat named Gherkin, but he seemed lonely, so I got him some friends from Aberforth in Hogsmeade. Aberforth is hoping to get some nicely bearded kids out of them. Gherkin has this really long silver beard for a goat. It’s quite attractive, if I do say so me self.”

Harry reached out to rub Hermione’s shoulders as she practically collapsed at the table, her head slamming against the wood as she let out a low moan.

“You okay, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Too much ice cream?”

“No,” Hermione moaned into the table. “I think I’m going to need more.” She paused as she rolled her forehead against the table a few times. “And it definitely needs to be chocolate.”

 


	81. Return to the School Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus oversees Hermione's test-outs.  
> Severus makes crumpets. There was much rejoicing.

Chapter 81: Return to the School Routine

Hermione woke to a fuzzy mind and the soft touch of her father’s hand.

“You’re drooling on your books,” Severus said softly, his dark eyes held his amusement.

Hermione pulled his hand under her head and snuggled into it, pulling him half down to his knees as she hijacked his arm with a purr.

Severus grunted as his daughter snuggled into his arm mercilessly, latching onto him like a barnacle affixed to the smooth skin of a giant whale. As if to prove this was the most normal phenomenon, Little Vik snuggled into his face as he futilely attempted to tug his arm free. He pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled her familiar scent. Six years in, and a part of him was still waiting to wake from the dream that made something as simply as a loving and natural embrace of his daughter possible. That same part of him expected to wake up one morning and realise he was the victim of some horribly bittersweet dream— a dream where a boy who grew up making horrible choices became a man haunted by them and somehow found redemption and unconditional love through the eyes of a young witch.

“I’m not a figment of your imagination, Father,” Hermione murmured into his arm.

“Perhaps you are the greatest hallucination of my life, my daughter,” Severus said softly into her hair. “Created by some haphazardly random potion explosion created by Neville Longbottom.”

Hermione chuckled into his arm, releasing it at last, but she turned her gaze up at him drowsily, her hand gently stroking the inside of his wrist as if to reassure herself that he was not a hallucination in her own mind either.

“I am content,” Severus said with a quirk of his lips, “as long as I keep hallucinating.”

Hermione smiled at him warmly, the radiance of her genuine affection travelled through their bond and reaffirmed her trust in him.

“Slughorn will be eager to drill you on both your potion knowledge and theory,” Severus said after a time. “Part of him will wish to know how much you have gleaned from me as well as how much I taught you. This will be especially so after your rescue of him with Minerva over the summer. He will… often seem addled or distracted, but do not underestimate him. He was and is the quintessential Slytherin. He was the Potions Master at Hogwarts for over fifty years as well as the Head of Slytherin before he retired.”

Hermione tilted her head. “So he will, like a Slytherin, ask me one thing in testing the waters for another subject altogether?”

Snape’s corner of his mouth twitched. “Quite likely.”

“Will he… try to sabotage me, Master?” Hermione asked, her eyes cast down to the pile of books in front of her, “because of… my blood?”

Severus shook his head. “Horace is almost a true politician. He has a way of making someone think he’s on their side without truly committing to it. He is, however, not a pure-blood supremacist. Of his favourites numbered all sorts of backgrounds. Power and influence is what interests him… and the best ways have those with it at his fingertips.”

“I hear he is accepting students with exceeds expectations into his N.E.W.T. level courses,” Hermione noted.

Severus gave a small shudder. “He has… more patience than I for the potential for failure.”

A shadow seemed to pass over Hermione’s face and she turned away, staring into the fireplace. “Would you have… even let me into your N.E.W.T. level class if… if I’d never become your apprentice? Would you have hated me?”

Severus touched her head, his long, pale fingers running through her hair. “I have made many mistakes in my life, Hermione,” he said softly. “It would be my hope that even with my horrible track record, I would have continued to see promise in you had you refused my Apprenticeship. I know my past self saw very little potential in anyone but… that same self saw something special in you your second year that made me see past your incessant hand waving and ceaseless questions.”

“But I would have disappointed you,” Hermione said softly. “Betrayed you.” Her mind was trembling with what-ifs. Thoughts of how one action could cause a chain of things to happen or not filled her mind as she contemplated how it could have easily been a life having never known his mind and the comfort of his warmth that so few even knew he had.

Severus sighed. She knew him too well. His old self would have viewed her refusal of his offer as a personal betrayal. It had taken a great deal of personal risk to ask her at all. What he had offered, even with just the formality of Apprenticeship, was not something he had thought to undertake lightly. “I would have been,” he admitted, “but, I have no doubt you would have done well enough to earn your outstanding grade and pass into my sixth year class, had I been teaching it.”

Hermione looked up at him doubtfully.

Severus shook his head. Of all the times for his daughter to wallow in self doubt. “It’s not like I made the decision for you easy,” he told her. “I was not exactly pleasant to you at any point before then. It would have been entirely expected of you to refuse me. No one, had they known, would have questioned that decision, had you made it.”

Hermione gave a small smile. “I would have. Probably every day I saw you after that… and regretted it.”

Snape harrumphed. “For whatever reason, all of our choices, good and bad, lead us to this point, daughter. For that, I can be only be thankful that whatever insanity provoked myself into considering the options and you into making that one barmy decision to accept happened.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Perhaps, I’m mental,” she said with a growing warmth creeping back into her familiar presence.

Severus raised a brow.

“I get it from my father’s side of the gene pool,” she said cheekily.

Severus ruffled her hair. “To bed, miscreant,” he admonished.

Hermione stared into his eyes with a grand smile. “Your will is mine,” she answered and vanished from the room in a swirl of black fabric.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Odd not seeing Dumbledore at the Head Table during the Welcome Feast,” Neville said as he fed his pet yodelling cactus. “They say he went on sabbatical.”

“Sabbatical?” Seamus asked, mouth full of chicken wings. “Is that a fancy word for holiday?”

“Guess so,” Neville answered as his cactus burst into song. “They say he hasn’t taken one in all the years he’s been at Hogwarts. He has… a lot of it to take.”

“Like… a few years worth, give or take a few more?” Dean asked as he pushed the bowl of buttered green beans down the table. Ginny was grinning at him with a blush.

Hermione looked up from her soup and looked at Ginny and then at Dean.

Ginny avoided her gaze somewhat obviously.

Hermione exchanged glances with the twins and Harry.

Fred and George, forever unabashed in almost every situation they were in, got a wild gleam in their eyes. “Heyyyyy, sis,” Fred said.

“When did you and Dean hook up, hrm?” George said with a grin.

Ginny turned a bright shade of of Weasley red as Dean busied himself eating his lunch. This of course, caught the attention of Lavender and Parvati, who had to join in on the gossip.

“None of your business,” Ginny snapped, attempting her best Molly Weasley face, but no one at the table was taking her threat seriously.

Cerberus was staring at her hungrily, two of the three heads were staring at her as the other was licking his chops as he stared at Dean.

Dean warily passed head number three a chicken leg from the table and looked quite surprised when the pup gently pulled the leg from his fingers before crunching into it hungrily. Head numbers one and two looked at the third jealously, giving a soft whine of envy. The chicken-less heads lapped head number three, perhaps hoping for scraps.

“It’s odd seeing Aurors walking the halls of Hogwarts,” Seamus said, danging a turkey leg behind him, attracting the pup to his side like a magnet. It seemed like the house-elves always had turkey legs out regardless of the meal on the Gryffindor tables, and Fred and George suspected it was Winky making sure “her pup” was taking care of along with her Mistress.

There were nods of agreement down the table. “I know,” Neville answered. “Especially after that cheerfully uplifting welcoming speech McGonagall gave during the Welcome Feast.”

Harry nodded. “I dunno, though,” he said. “I mean they are Aurors after all. It sort of makes me feel safer too, even though I’m not sure what I’d be afraid of here at Hogwarts. Hagrid told me back in first year there were two of the safest places to be was Hogwarts and Gringotts.

“Goblins kind of creep me out,” Seamus admitted. “Their teeth are all pointy so you can’t tell if they are smiling or going to bite your face off.”

Harry smirked and grinned. “Have you ever looked at the ceilings and dome murals though? Dragons and hordes of treasure and such. Really beautiful.”

Neville nodded. “I used to love looking at the fire-breathing white dragon up on the large dome with I went there with my Gran,” he said with a nod. “She used to tell me they keep a dragon down in the lower vaults to guard the high security vaults, but I’ve never seen one. Not that I want to.”

Shudders went down the table. “No thanks,” Seamus said with a shake of his head.

There was a burst of laughter coming from down the table, and a cluster of girls were fawning over Ron as he was telling some sort of story. Lavender was holding his hand on the table and giggling.

Fred, George, Seamus, Neville, Harry, Ginny, Dean, and Hermione stared down the table quite speechless.

Fred and George chimed together, “Well, that is going to take some getting used to.”

Harry looked a little ill.

A dark shadow cast down upon them, and the silent and intimidating figure of the Potion Master now Defence Against Dark Arts Professor glared down from behind them.

“Apprentice,” Snape said lowly.

Hermione posture tightened and she looked up, “Yes, Master.”

“It’s time for your exams,” he said without a change in expression. “I am to escort you to Professor Lupin, who will be overseeing your tests.”

“Of course, Master,” she said, gathering her things. She gave the table a quick smile and then took her place behind Snape as he glided out of the Great Hall a few steps behind him, just out of range of his billowing robes, with Cerberus bouncing along behind her.

“She starts out the term taking exams?” Neville asked, pity on his face.

“Well, she can’t very well apprentice and help him teach his classes and be a regular student at the same time,” Harry said logically.

Ginny shook her head. “I asked if she was going to be switching to Professor Slughorn since he was teaching potions this year, but she said she was doing Defence this term because that was what Snape was teaching.”

Harry gave Ginny an odd look. “Why would she switch?”

Ginny shrugged. “I figured she was apprenticing in potions… not specifically Snape.”

Fred and George shook their heads. “Once the Apprenticeship is made, sis, she goes where he goes. She doesn’t get to switch.

Ginny slumped a little. “I was really hoping she’d get to move back into the Gryffindor Tower this year if she got to change to Professor Slughorn’s apprentice.

George scratched his head. “Even if she could, sis, she’d end up sharing quarters with Slughorn instead.”

“It’s not fair,” Ginny pouted. “I miss being able to have her around to talk to.”

“You mean help with your potions and arithmancy homework,” Fred ribbed his sister.

“Psh,” Ginny muttered.

Harry kept his mouth shut, knowing that Ginny would not be a safe person to tell that Hermione returning to Gryffindor Tower wasn’t going to happen, nor would he tell her the real reason. Ginny couldn’t even keep her own relationship with Dean Thomas secret one day back into Hogwarts. He was not going to give her any information she could unintentionally reveal to the entire school. As it was, he was actually looking forward to the upcoming full moon weekend so he could spend some quality time in with the fur, feather and token scale pile.

Harry wondered if Sirius was going to join them for the next scheduled lunar cycle. He’d wistfully commented to Sirius it would be nice if they could all lounge about at Grimmauld Place for Moony’s turning times, but Sirius had said as long as Kreacher’s hate for him and all non-pure-bloods remained, they couldn’t risk the house-elf having one more secret to hold under duress. It wasn’t the secret of Lupin’s being a werewolf that had to be protected as much as the greater secret that had to be protected. It was the pack, its members, and its closeness that could not be protected at Grimmauld Place, and the irony that the house’s function as the Order’s best kept secret safe house for Order meetings was safe for that purpose but wasn’t safe for them to be social in was not lost on him.

Winky, he knew, dutifully kept the secrets of Hermione’s pack and family with fervent loyalty. Her loyalty to Hermione was second to none, so much so that her old service to the Crouch family was so far out of her mind, that she didn’t even mention her old masters anymore. Not like she did when the Crouch family first gave her clothes…

Hermione had asked Sirius to try and develop a better bond with Kreacher in order to instill some sort of loyalty in the bitter old house-elf, but progress was going about as well as Harry’s initial Occlumency lessons…

Harry shuddered and tried to refocus on the conversations going around in the Great Hall, but it seemed like people were now focusing on shovelling food into their mouths instead of conversing. It was probably for the best. His stomach was growling noisily to remind him that he hadn’t put enough in it yet.

Harry smirked and did his best Ronald Weasley imitation and started attacking the pile of chicken wings in front of him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione fretted over the answers to her written exams for DADA despite all the studying she had put in between crises over the summer. Severus had drilled her extensively over the written knowledge and Alastor and Kingsley had drilled her over the practical skills so many times she could cast a counter curse while suspended upside down by her ankle, silently, and without a wand if she had to, but she preferred having a wand in her hand.

Still, and exam always made her feel nervous. A part of her feared her knowledge was going to leak out her ears and flee into the night while she was sleeping, leaving her without anything to stand on when the test came around. Waking up with three headed dog slobber running down her neck in the morning had her in a panic that her brain matter was truly leaking out her ears and it took a half awake Viktor, a bemused Severus, and a drowy inland taipan to calm her down from her half-asleep nightmare induced panic.

“Figures the witch who fights Death Eaters in the dark wouldn’t have nightmares about that,” Draco muttered sleepily. “She goes off and has nightmares about her knowledge leaking out her ears.”

To top of the stress, she had to wait until after lunch to sit the exams, giving her ample time to re-stress herself out after all of their hard work to de-stress her waking nightmare in the first place.

“Time is up, Apprentice Granger,” Remus chuckled from his seat at his desk. The normal History of Magic classroom was completely empty save for the pair of them. “I’m sure you did Outstanding, as usual.”

Hermione looked dubious as she handed Lupin her pile of exams.

Remus shook his head. “Hermione,” he chided softly. “Of all the people I am worried about not being to pass their exams, you are not one of them, and that includes the fact you’re taking yours early.”

Hermione sat in the chair in front of his desk and petting Cerberus compulsively. The pup whined softly and nuzzled her hand, one head taking her wrist into his mouth and held it almost in reassurance.

Hermione’s hair was already the colour of flames in her previous demonstration of human transfiguration, and her eyebrows were the Lazar’s seafoam aquamarine. A flock of yellow canaries were perched all over an amused Remus, and she had successfully conjured a goblet, a wombat, and figurine that looked a lot like Moony. Remus’ hair was now a bright shade of cobalt blue, he had beautiful pair of fangs, and he was sporting a feathered crest of a cockatiel that was flaring up every time he laughed.

“I think we can safely say that you have passed your transfiguration exams with…” Remus smirked as he coughed, “flying colours. I’m sure Minerva is right proud of you.”

Hermione smiled despite her nervousness, enthralled with watching Remus’ feathered head crest perk up ever time he was amused.

“Let’s see,” Remus continued. “History of Magic done. Transfiguration… definitely done. Septima will be happy to know you haven’t let her down either. Filius was confident you would do fine on his as well, but he told me to tell you that if you want some extracurricular instruction to go and see him as time allows.”

Hermione smiled. Charms had become quite a favourite to learn ever since Viktor had shown her many of the amazing things he could do with charms. Their team work on the animated constructs for the store were only getting better for it. The constructs, for example, were not tied to their personal magic like many of the ones learned in class, so even if something were to happen to them, their constructs would remain whatever they had crafted them to be.

Remus was mumbling through the rest of the exam results, checking off a list, writing down the results, signing it, and rolling up the paperwork into a scroll. He poured the wax over the edge and smashed his seal down into it. “Looks like you’re free to take Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, and Divination if you so choose, since none of those classes were conflicting with Severus’ teaching schedule for Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Hermione twitched the moment Remus said Divination. While she wasn’t completely convinced the subject was hogwash, thanks to the Centaurs’ version of it, she was convinced that the majority of what Sybil Trelawney was passing off as divination was a load of thestral poo.

Remus grinned as she saw her twitch. “She is a piece of work, isn’t she?”

Hermione grimaced. “One way of putting it.”

“I believe it’s your plan to take potions to keep Harry in position to catch Horace’s eye, yes?” Remus said as he held out the scroll to a nearby Hogwarts’ owl. The owl clasped the scroll in its talons and flew silently off, carrying the test results off to be officially recorded.

“Horace is already focused on him, thanks to his reputation,” Hermione confirmed, “but I think things will go smoother when we are in the same class again.”

Remus nodded. “How much of your true skill are you going to reveal to Horace? We both know you need to be in potions class as much as need to sit in transfiguration.”

Hermione smirked. “Enough to make him think I’m not incompetent, but not enough for him to think he can’t guide me along to where he wants me.”

Lupin shook his head. “You’ve been with snakes too long, Hermione. I think Salazar himself would be beside himself if he met you. All of his Slytherin ideals perfectly represented in a powerful Muggle-born witch…”

Hermione smirked. “I wonder how much of Salazar Slytherin’s reputation was true to him and how much was changed to fit the ruling class.”

Remus tilted his head. “How so?”

“Well… look at Dumbledore’s reputation or my Master’s,” she said. “How much of what people think about them are really who they are? And if Salazar was the quintessential Slytherin, who’s to say what he really thought. They were willing to put Professor Dumbledore in Azkaban for the truth. Whose to say that Salazar wasn’t driven from Hogwarts and his reputation sullied because it suited the ruling class to have a scapegoat or a martyr?”

Remus stroked his chin with his fingers. “You have been with Slytherin too long, Hermione,” he said at last, “but you may not be so wrong either. Alas, we may never know the truth of it, but there is a part of me that would find no small amount of irony if Tom Riddle’s war for pure-blooded supremacy and unification under one House was built on nothing more than a propaganda lie of the time.”

“What if Salazar left the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets not to kill Muggle born witches and wizards,” Hermione speculated. “What is he left it as a parting gift to those that tarnished his reputation.”

Remus tilted his head. “It tried to kill Muggle-borns, Hermione,” Remus said.

“A thousand years later, when the only voice it could understand was the spectre of Tom Riddle telling him to kill the Muggles,” Hermione said. “Maybe he was the heir, truly, but like most of us… we cannot chose our birth family.”

“Think of this,” Hermione speculated. “What if the Board of Governors was created to protect the truth of what really happened to to the Founders of Hogwarts, especially Salazar Slytherin? What if… the reason the Chamber of Secrets was never “found” was because they didn’t want it to be, and they purposely spread the idea that it was a ill-founded rumour?”

“And then Tom Riddle bought into the entire made-up propaganda, never knowing the true face of Salazar Slytherin…” Lupin continued. “Possible. Not that we could stop him now by telling him the truth, even if we could prove it. But… what about the Sorting Hat? It has been putting pure-blood families into Slytherin and keeping Muggle-borns out for hundreds of years. It was created by the Founders…”

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “Harry once said to me that the reason the hat put him in Gryffindor wasn’t because he was more suited to it. It was because he chose to be there. What if the stigma of being in Slytherin as a Muggle-born is too strong for the hat to ignore? Ron once said he’d die if he was put into Slytherin, yet a part of him must have possible. Hundreds of years of brainwashing says that there hasn’t been one witch or wizard gone bad that wasn’t from Slytherin… Hagrid of all people told us that… but what if that, too, is just as much prejudice? Look at Draco and my Master. They aren’t evil, yet, I’m willing to bet that the majority of non-Slytherin are positive that anything bad that is going to come out of Hogwarts is going to be from Slytherin House.”

“And we only have to look at Wormtail to see how Gryffindor doesn’t make a person of sound moral character,” Remus said. “Or we Marauders when we were young,” he added. “We were… daring, I suppose. Full of nerve… but lacking chivalry. We replaced it with arrogance and self-righteousness.”

Hermione smiled at Lupin. “I’d like to think you grew out of it like I did with my incessant hand-waving.”

Remus laughed warmly. “I wish you could have met Lily,” he said wistfully. “James too. You would have put James in his place in three seconds flat. Hexed him within twenty seconds of meeting him, and probably be having tea with him afterwards with his hands bound behind his back, most likely. Lily… she could have used someone that understood her Muggle background. Perhaps, if she had a friend like you, we could not have turned her against Severus like we did.”

Hermione touched Remus on the back of the hand, gently rubbing it with his fingers. “I see them every day in Harry,” she said warmly. “He is the best… and sometimes the worst of them, depending on when you catch him. Much as I’m sure… I am my father’s daughter.”

Remus caught her hand in his and smiled sadly. “You are that,” he said softly. “I think about where I and Padfoot would be now if not for you. It was your courage that paved the way for an old wolf and an scruffy old dog to learn the lessons they should have learned over fifteen years ago. All we have to do is see you and Draco together, laughing as you do your homework with Severus glaring over at you to focus… with so much more emotion than I’d ever thought to see in the old git’s eyes.”

Remus looked at Hermione with warmth. There was no disrespect for Severus there anymore. Between the pack bond and so many other revelations that had come the year of Sirius’ escape from Azkaban, the past had finally reconciled with the present. They were all paving their own path towards the future, together.

“I hear Harry has been studying his animagus meditations religiously at every free moment,” Remus said.

Hermione laughed, “You’d think his life depended on it. Had he had this kind of enthusiasm with Occlumency… he would have been set in a month instead of two years.”

Remus chuckled. “I’ve wondered, sometimes, if it would be possible to be an animagus and a werewolf. Until now, I never, ever wanted to be reminded of what it was to be an animal. I saw it as a curse upon everything I valued.”

Hermione tilted her head. “Well, you are amongst the right people to learn how to be an animagus,” she chuckled softly. “Perhaps you’ve had the ability all along, Remus, but you weren’t ready to see it until now. The choice may have been taken from you as a child, but the path you are on now, is your own.”

Remus stared at her. “How is it, Hermione,” he said at last, “that a witch on the cusp of seventeen, has become so wise, when it has taken your elder by almost thirty years has taken almost longer than she has been alive to realise she may be right?”

Hermione grinned at him warmly, and as if to punctuate her smile, Cerberus barked in triplicate, placing his heads on Lupin’s leg and staring up at him with his dark brown eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, you can blame my Master for filling my already saturated mind with his way of looking at things.”

Remus smiled so that his eyes seemed to disappear within the wrinkles of his face. “So, I have both of you to thank for this embarrassing epiphany?”

“Perhaps,” Hermione said with a grin.

“Remind me to buy you both dinner next free weekend we get,” Lupin said with a snort. “We could make it a pack affair.”

Hermione smiled. “Severus says, ‘As long as you do not try to poison me with that awful thousand year old egg or anything else you call a delicacy, we’ll be fine.’”

Remus blushed. “He’s never going to let me live that down.”

Hermione arched a brow at Remus.

“When I was travelling the world trying to make sense of myself,” Remus explained. “I learned to eat some pretty odd things from quite a few cultures.”

Hermione was glaring at him.

“I promise you, I will never even attempt to offer you Casu Marzu or fermented green shark,” Lupin promised.

“Thanks for that,” Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

“I was starving,” Lupin explained. “And when you’re starving… it is amazing what you are willing to eat.”

Hermione sniffed. “You are not allowed to make fun of me or Viktor when we hunt and eat any more, Remus,” she said.

Remus waved his hands. “I promise.”

Hermione tilted her head as if to listen to something. “My Master tells me it is time for me to show up in DADA, lest I be late to my own Master’s class, and that I need to ‘pry my posterior from Lupin’s exceedingly comfy chair before he accio’s both the chair and me out your classroom door.’”

Lupin laughed and nodded. “Go, go,” he said with a grin. “Have a good class, Hermione.”

Hermione stood, causing Cerberus to stand up at attention and the hippogriff that was napping in her hair to chirp in surprise. “Good afternoon, Professor,” she said, bowing her head and sweeping the room, her black robes billowing behind her.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Crumpets!” Hermione squealed with happiness. “Clotted cream and jam! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!” Hermione glomped onto Severus’ waist causing the Potion Master to oof, holding his cast iron skillet in one hand and the flipper in the other. He found himself with his daughter burrowed into his robes and rubbing against him like… an excited gryphon.

“Easy, my daughter,” he huffed. “I would appreciate the use of my lungs.”

Hermione bounced onto her tip toes and kissed her father on the cheek. “You are the best dad ever!” she exclaimed, snagging a freshly made crumpet and deposited herself at a chair near the table.

Severus lifted an eyebrow. “If only the war could be solved with crumpets. It would be far more enjoyable than taking unforgiveables to the face every week.”

Hermione gazed adoringly at him, smearing her crumpet lovingly with jam and cream before biting into it.

“CRUMPETS!” Draco cried from the next room. The sound of the portrait portal door closed behind him. “Please don’t be an olfactory illusion!”

Before Draco could even walk all the way into the kitchen, Hermione lifted her half-eaten crumpet up as Draco approached and he descended upon it like a hungry lamprey. He mumbled incoherently with happiness, rubbing his sister on the shoulder before hugging Severus from behind. “I love your crumpets!” he said with his mouth half full.

Severus lured Draco off his person by handing him a crumpet from the pan. Draco joined Hermione at the table as she poured tea for the each of them. By the time he turned to put his crumpets on the plate on the table, Hermione and Draco had polished off half the stack.

“You would think that they never feed you here at Hogwarts,” Severus said, eyebrow raised. “Or that I never fed you at all.”

Cerberus was looking at him from his seat by his leg, staring up adoringly at him. Severus looked down at the pup with a critical eye.

“You know,” Severus told the pup. “They say in the Muggle world that feeding your dog people food is bad habit.”

Cerberus whined softly, tail wagging.

“Somehow I doubt there is any handbook on the care and feeding of Grecian three-headed dogs, father,” Hermione chuckled.

Severus sat down at the table, trying to ignore the warm brown eyes that were ever so hopefully trying to convince him to part with a crumpet. It was, almost, as hard as trying to ignore his daughter when she gave him the same warm brown gryphon eyes treatment. Fortunately, having survived many attacked from said daughter, he felt he was up to resisting the dog’s attempt at supplication. He grabbed a crumpet and smeared it with golden syrup and stuffed it in his mouth quickly.

“How was potions class?” Severus asked as he took a sip of tea.

Hermione smirked. “Professor Slughorn had us identify the potions he had brewing in the cauldrons today.”

“Oh? Dare I ask?” Severus answered.

“Veritaserum, polyjuice, and amortentia,” Hermione said, sipping her tea.

“Interesting combination of potions to have sixth years identifying,” he said with a sniff. “Though, polyjuice was probably an easy identification for you.”

Hermione turned a find scarlet radish colour.

“Amortentia,” Severus commented, “is a bit dangerous to have brewing around an unwary class.”

“Lavender and Pansy practically dove into the cauldron head first,” Draco said. “Slughorn had to put the lid on the cauldron, or they both would have willingly drowned themselves in it.”

Snape curled his lip. “Just what Poppy needs,” he said. “Magically obsessed students pouring out their obsessive love infatuations into the night until we could get her an antidote.”

“Master?” Hermione asked.

“Hrm?”

“Would Veritaserum cancel out the effects of Amortentia?” she asked. “Would truth cancel out a false obsession?”

“Truth, yes,” Severus answered. “But Veritaserum does not bring truth to the mind of the drinker. It simply lets loose the truth as the person knows it and frees it from the mouth.”

“What do you use to counter it?” Hermione asked.

“There is an antidote that can be used to counter it which is creatively called ‘love potion antidote…’ kudos to the one who creatively named that one,” Severus explained. “It can also be countered with its polar opposite, the hate potion. Both have an equally long ingredient list.”

Hermione nodded.

Severus stifled a yawn. “I supposed I will teach you both how to brew them. The ingredient list is horrendous, but the brewing time is hours rather than days or months, unlike the potions they counter. If Slughorn is exposing the classes to the love potion, it is only a matter of time when both counter potions will be needed. Did Slughorn actually teach you a potion yet?”

Both Hermione and Draco nodded in negative.

“He was going to, I think,” Draco said, “But we had some late arrivals to the class that didn’t have their books, and he said sharing books would not be good for the complexity of the potion. They have until next class to get their books sorted. He gave us an essay on the Draught of Living Death.”

Severus’ eyebrow lifted into his hair. “He either has great confidence in you all, or doesn’t expect you to succeed the first time.”

Hermione gave him a curious look over the crumpet she was chewing on.

Severus met her gaze. “Recite the instructions for the Draught of Living Death, Apprentice, or I will take away your clotted cream and jam.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Add the infusion of wormwood to the cauldron and add in the powdered root of asphodel, finely ground as to not have lumps,” she said, pausing a moment to devour the last of her crumpet. “Stir twice clockwise, then add sloth brain. Fresh is best. Pulverise it thoroughly, but if that is not available, dried will work, but it will cause a longer simmering time before the sopophorous bean juice is added. Wait for the colour change to stabilise. Sopophorous beans should be crushed with the silver dagger rather than cut, otherwise you’ll spend too much time chasing the beans around the laboratory instead of juicing them. Stir seven time anti-clockwise, then once clockwise.”

Hermione finished with a long sigh and looked at Severus hopefully.

Severus’ face was impassive, but he pushed the clotted cream and jam towards her. “Your condiments are safe, daughter. You may continue stuffing your face.”

Hermione beamed at him warmly and grabbed another crumpet from the pile.

They enjoyed their tea together in silence before Hermione and Draco moved into the Lair to do their assignments as they sprawled in front of the fireplace.

By the time Severus made his way into the Lair after his mountain of grading, Hermione and Draco were already passed out over their books. Draco’s notebook had a glowing finished arithmancy equation floating above his, and Hermione had an extensive star chart drawn out across the span of multiple pages for Astronomy. Both of them were curled up like cats by the fireplace, completely oblivious to the world.

Vik, the ever scroll and parchment loving hippogriff was nestled in the pushed aside parchments, looking as content as ever as Cerberus curled up next to him, guarding him and his parchment nest dutifully.

Severus smirked, and picked up the scattered books and set them on the side table then pulled a quilt off the side chair and cast it over his daughter and godson. He was about to leave them to enjoy the fire their reunion together when Hermione’s arm shot out and snagged around his leg even as she sleepily snuggled into Draco’s back.

Severus smirked. Sighing softly, he took on his owl form and talon walked over to settle in the curve of her arm. He was just about asleep when she stretched and pulled him closer like a pillow, snuggling her face into his soft feathers as she fell back asleep. He gave a soft hoot and nipped at her hair with his beak before his eyes slowly closed once more and sleep carried him into the darkness of oblivion.


	82. My Allies, My Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus makes a new potion, and Hermione wants to know what it is!  
> Pansy Parkinson has a change of heart.  
> Hogsmeade is under attack.  
> Severus is tortured by the Dark Lord.

**Chapter 82: My Allies, My Enemies**

There was a disgruntled looking owl perched on the chair when Hermione woke up, and it wasn’t her father. That was the only coherent thought she could come up with as she blearily stared into the dimness of the room.

Draco stirred next to her, grunted, and burrowed deeper under the quilt, snuggling into her with a soft sigh, and she felt a certain lazy and drowsy contentment reestablish itself over her mind as she blissfully snuggled into her brother for warmth.

Cerberus padded up to the feathered interloper, tail wagging, and all three heads cocked curiously to sniff over the owl.

The tawny coloured owl hooted softly.

Hermione’s eyes opened suddenly. It would take a very special owl to get through the wards of Severus’ chambers unless it had been expected.

The owl hooted again, turning its bright yellow eyes towards her.

:The owl is for you, daughter,: Severus’ amused mind voice chided her.

:Don’t wanna,: she protested, snuggling deeper into the quilt. She was clutching the owl that was Severus like a pillow or a plush toy, burying her face into his feathers.

His amusement rolled through their bond as she dragged him under the covers with herself and Draco, snuggling into them both in the warmth of the quilt.

Cerberus, having made proper nose to beak introductions with the messenger owl, proceeded to sniff under the quilt edge and look for an opening to crawl under as well.

:Minerva will come looking for me if I do not show up for class,: Severus rumbled softly into her head. :She will insist on inflicting herself upon me by sitting in my lap. This will be your fault, which I will fully punish you by forcing you to move back in with Ginny Weasley in the Gryffindor Tower.”

Hermione groaned and slithered out from under the quilt, leaving Draco and Cerberus to sleep in. :Fine, fine,: she grumbled, carrying Severus in her arms like a favourite pillow.

Severus hooted in protest, but the fluffing of his feathers in protest only seemed to make him more appealingly fluffy, and Hermione snuffled into his feathers sleepily as she walked.

Hermione smiled at him sleepily, placing a kiss on top of his feathered head before setting him down on the nearby armchair. She grabbed the parchment from the messenger owl and handed the patient bird a frog leg from the tin on the table. The tawny owl hooted gratefully, digging into the tasty tidbit.

Sighing and feeling like she wanted to go right back under the comforter, she broke the seal on the letter and read. She stared at the parchment blearily and grunted. :Good news, father,: she said with complete and utter lack of excitement. :I’m cleared to take my N.E.W.T.s early and be a full time Apprentice. My evaluation tests were ‘satisfactorily high.’ What does satisfactorily high mean? You’re either satisfactory… or high aren’t you?:

Severus’ pale hand tugged on the parchment and took it. He scanned the paper with his dark eyes and grunted. :There are days I loathe the English language.: He handed the scroll back. :Congratulations. You may now… take more tests.:

Hermione gave her father a long suffering look. :So, I get to take them with Fred and George and the rest of last year’s seventh years, since they are staying an extra few months to make up for Umbridge botching up the N.E.W.T.s from last year?:

:So it would seem, my daughter,: Severus murmured into her mind, slowly herding her out the door towards the bathroom so he could brush his teeth.

The pair of them drowsily brushed their teeth and washed their faces. Neither of them looked overly excited about having to be up.

“It was nice of Minerva to offer the seventh years a free term to complete their N.E.W.T.s after Umbridge’s botch job of things,” Hermione said as she patted down her father’s pockets for the floss he had somehow placed into his robe instead of the bathroom cabinet. “I wonder how many hoops she had to leap through with the Board of Governors.”

“Not many, from what I heard. The Ministry was so embarrassed by the horrible false marks, doctored failures, and furious parental owls that they actually funded the seventh years returning to prepare for and successfully take their N.E.W.T.s without… how did they put it… ‘unfortunate miscommunication of standards.’”

Hermione paused in the flossing of her teeth. “Unfortunate miscommunication of standards?”

Snape nodded with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Wonder where they got the funds to pay for the fees for an entire class of students to come back to Hogwarts an extra year.”

Severus had an evil glint to his dark eyes.

Hermione slid her eyes over to peer at him.

“Umbridge and Fudge’s pension and retirement fund,” Severus said with a smirk. “Seeing as Umbridge has been retired to Azkaban, and Fudge has… left his office without a forwarding address after his public shaming.”

Hermione grinned from ear to ear. “Excellent.” She paused a moment. “Who took the place of Fudge?”

“Rufus Scrimgeour,” Severus said. “I’m surprised Moody hasn’t ranted your ear off over that during your lessons.”

“So many other things to yell over, Master,” Hermione replied.

Severus harrumphed. “True. Still not like you to not be up on the news.”

Hermione shrugged. “Other things on my mind over the summer. I think… I wanted to be as far from the news as possible. It’s not like Rita Skeeter is around anymore to stick her antennae into our business, but, the news can be so…”

“Depressing?” Severus asked.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied. “And after Fudge, I will admit to being a little apprehensive as to who might take his place.”

Severus inhaled deeply and exhaled softly. “He has been a very experienced Auror, from what Moody has said in the past. His reputation fighting Dark wizards and witches is what paved his way to being the Head of the Auror Office.”

“Do you think he will be… better than Fudge about the Dark Lord’s threat?” Hermione asked.

Severus shook his head. “I do not know. He appears, at least on the surface, to encourage strength and the truth in the face of danger, but even if he himself is not fooling himself, there are those above and below him that are still not convinced the Dark Lord is a threat to them.”

Hermione grunted. “How could they not? No, don’t even… I realise that was a stupid question.”

Severus smirked. “I am relieved that you have become self correcting after making such comments.”

Hermione pfted and bonked her head into Severus’ chest and his loose night shirt that smelled reassuringly of him and Home. She snuffled the fabric and the junction of his arm and shoulder like one of the Muggle fabric softener commercials she remembered seeing on the television.

Severus snorted as she stuffed her nose in the crook his arm and inhaled, letting out a contented chirp. He placed his hand over her head and ruffled. He had found it somewhat disconcerting at first that she found so much comfort in him of all people, and she had an unerring habit of basking in his scent and making sure she was properly covered in his before setting off for the day. It had become so habitual, that he barely even noticed it anymore, and the Pack, as it was, tended to do the same.

Draco, Viktor, and the Skybrothers were all sure to rub up against him, lean on him, or engage in some sort of physical contact to make sure his scent was mixed in with their own. Even Lupin took to leaning on him when no one was looking, the first time of which had cause Severus to slam his Occlumency down on himself so fast in his surprise that he’d unintentionally freaked out Hermione, who was suddenly cut off from his mental presence and thought he’d been attacked. He was much more prepared the second time and the repeating times after that, and he was struck with the irony that Lupin would find his scent reassuring considering his teenage history as the greasy git and Marauder bait extraordinaire.

Perhaps the biggest surprise that he never thought he’d see in his life akin to Dumbledore actually being open and sharing of information was when Sirius Black had crushed him to his body and actually… hugged him. In front of Harry James Potter of all people. The world really was going mad. Stark raving mad. If Albus wasn’t spending his time as a goat, he’d surely have blamed him for it. Part of him… still blamed him for it. If anyone could cause more trouble as a goat than a human, it would be Albus Dumbledore.

“I know I will regret this,” Severus said with a sigh, “but what is the latest news on Gherkin?”

Hermione make an odd noise in her throat. “I would say that Hagrid is doing his best to make Gherkin a goat that never needs worry about being lonely.”

Severus froze as his mind deciphered that tidbit. “What?”

“He has a nice little paddock out there for his little herd of goats,” Hermione coughed politely. “Aberworth let Hagrid have a couple of his nanny goats to keep him company.”

Severus’ eyebrow twitched. “Why did we entrust the task of keeping Gherkin safe to Hagrid again?”

Hermione put on her best halo face. “Because, my Master, neither you or Minerva wanted to have a goat in your quarters for the rest of term.”

Severus visible slumped in resignation. “Noted. However, you must at least admit that you wouldn’t want the old goat chewing on your parchments either.”

Little Vik twittered a chain of angry chirps from Hermione’s hair.

Hermione grinned at him sheepishly. “What he said.”

Severus smirked. A growing look of horror started to creep across his face. “Wait… how long has Hagrid been setting Gherkin up with… company?”

“Since about a week ago,” Hermione said. “Hagrid let it slip over ice cream in Diagon Alley.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, pointing his face upward. “I wonder if we could ship Hagrid off to Charlie Weasley and get in a nice… internship working with dragons instead of trying to bring all the wildlife to Hogwarts and trying to kill off our students.”

“I think…” Hermione started to say as she stared up at the ceiling. “I think he’s trying to make up for the fact we… obliterated his acromantula breeding program in the Dark Forest.”

Severus raised a brow. “Technically, we did not obliterate the entire nest… just the ones that tried to eat us.”

Hermione gave him a tired look. “Okay, so… half the nest.”

“Hnn,” Severus replied. “The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures did the rest, for once. At least we don’t have Hagrid giving either of us dirty looks from across the High Table over his spiders.”

Hermione shuddered. “Spiders. Why spiders? Why acromantulas? Not just any kind of garden spider, no… acromantulas. Illegal to import into every Country… how has he not gotten in trouble for that? He bred highly illegal blast-ended skrewts… which he ‘set free’ into the woods. Three-headed killer dog? Set free into the woods. It’s a bloody miracle that none of them just wandered right onto the grounds and dragged some poor Hufflepuff into the woods for dinner!”

Cerberus had apparently heard “three-headed dog” and was now sitting at her feet, looking up at her adoringly.

“Yes, you,” Hermione cooed at the dog, scratching his ears. “Look how horrible you were before you became adorable!”

Cerberus barked happily, tail wagging.

Draco walked into the room sleepily, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Talking about Hagrid, are you?” Draco muttered. “I recognise that tone of disgusted disbelief anywhere.”

Hermione snorted at Draco and shook her head. “It’s true!”

“Oh, I am not contesting that, sis,” Draco grinned at her.

Hermione sighed. “It would be so much easier if Hagrid wasn’t such a well meaning affable type of person.”

“Easier in what way?” Draco asked with a lifted brow.

“To just tell him what I really think about his projects,” Hermione said with a sigh. “There was a time… back in my first and second year… He was one of the only people who seemed to care about me. He cheered me up when… Draco introduced me to the word—”

Draco had her in a hug from behind before she could even complete her sentence. If there was any regret he had, it was that he made his future sister cry back in their first and second year. A part of him knew it could not have been helped. No one knew what he really thought of Muggle-borns back then. The Sorting Hat had, but it had thought his secret so delightfully Slytherin that he had no problem at all putting him into the Slytherin House. Severus had been the first to figure out his godson had not been stamped with the same horrible tendencies of his father and give him a safe place to goto where he didn’t have to wear the mask of pure-blood supremacy. Hermione, however, hadn’t even been a blip on his radar until two years in and his godfather had been bleeding out on his laboratory floor after one of Dumbledore’s tasks. “I wish… we could have known each other sooner,” Draco said at last, hugging her tightly.

Severus pulled them both into a hug, ruffling their hair mercilessly. “If Hermione was brewing polyjuice potions in her first year, I would have been convinced she fell through a time warp and de-aged herself as some master-minded scheme of Dumbledore,” he snerked into her hair.

“Oh, but second year was okay?” Draco accused.

“Obviously,” replied Severus as he herded his two charges in the direction of the next room. “As much amusement as I would gain seeing the both of you at breakfast in your pyjamas and nighties, I would encourage you both to save yourself some humiliation.”

Hermione and Draco snickered and took the hint, scurrying off to dress appropriately for the breakfast hour.

Severus looked down at himself and realised that he needed to march himself right back into the bathroom and partake of a much needed shower, hopefully before his bathtub was taken by a certain soapy gryphon.

It all came down to priorities…

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione went on her tip toes to look over Severus’ shoulder to peer at what he was doing. She chirped plaintively, appealing to her father’s tall stature that he made a better door than a window.

Severus grunted, his eyebrow arched as he moved just enough to give Hermione grief.

“Masterrrrrrr,” she whinged. “How am I supposed to learn if you won’t even let me see what you are brewing?”

“I am supposed to be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Severus answered coolly.

“Hogwash,” Hermione snapped back, sounding exactly like him answering Moody. She pressed her face into the junction of his arm. “You could teach me Japanese Kabuki theatre and no one here would question you, Master.”

Severus turned and caught his bouncing Apprentice daughter in his one arm. “You are particularly hyper this afternoon.”

Hermione snuffled into him, settling only when he ensnared her into himself.

Severus grunted. “Do I excrete some sort of sedative from my skin?”

Hermione murmured into him, muttering nonsensical words and chirps.

“Daughter, have you been exposing yourself to strange potion vapours?” he looked at her with concern.

Hermione stared into his eyes.

“Eaten any strange fungus?” Severus asked.

Hermione blinked at him.

Severus put the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature.

Hermione pouted, giving him a long suffering look.

Severus pfted. “Fine, check the cauldron.” He stepped aside.

Hermione bounced and peered into the cauldron excitedly, wafting her hand over the top to test the odour. Six years in, and she still treated a mystery cauldron full of some unidentified potion as a treat to be pounced on like a wrapped Christmas present.

“Healing potion,” she purred over it. “Layered. Restorative… mixed with… decursatives… this one is complex,” she said, sniffing a little closer, staring at the golden colour with interest. “Master, what is this potion?”

Severus extended his arm to the tome sitting on the stand.

“The tomes from the vault?” Hermione squeaked, eyes going wide.

Severus nodded.

Hermione beamed at him, rushing up to the tome to stare at the recipe. Her eyes scanned the page as the tips of her fingers ran down the edge of the leather bound book, seeming, perhaps, like the touch of an old friend.

“This could counter the effects of an amazing amount of wounds caused by hexes and curses, Master!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Why has this never been made before?”

“Check the last ingredient,” Severus said. “Turn the page.”

Hermione turned the page, and her eyes flicked across the page in a series of quick movements. “Three drops of Re’em blood,” Hermione frowned as she read the words. “Rare even in North America and the Far East, from what I remember when Professor Grubbly-Plant was teaching for Hagrid.”

Severus nodded.

“If common knowledge were to get out that such a potion existed, it could put the Re’em in danger?” Hermione asked.

“Quite possibly,” Severus agreed. “Pursual of the golden sheep had disastrous consequences for the entire species. It is amazing the Re’em has survived to present, which probably bears witness to its reclusive nature. The sheep were terrible conspicuous during the peak of their species.”

Hermione peered at the golden potion. “This is why these books were well guarded, isn’t it? It wasn’t just the knowledge to heal the Dark Arts… it was the ingredients needed to do so.”

“Every potion in the book has a price, whether in the rarity of the ingredients or investment of time in tweaking the recipe,” Severus confirmed. “Healing the dark arts involves not only knowing what you are trying to counter but often the mind and magical intent behind the spell. This is something most potioneers would not be willing to do on a case by case basis. People want potions they can easily reproduce or at least reproduce consistently using the same ingredients.”

“Is that why the wolfsbane potion takes a month to brew and still has to be taken over a week before the change?” Hermione asked.

Severus nodded. “It was created to work for all werewolves, not just one person, so it has to be crafted to temper the beast in many forms.”

“So there is a chance, we could customise a potion for Remus that he wouldn’t have to take for a week before the change?” Hermione connected the dots.

“Provided he even has to take it at all, anymore, yes,” Severus said replied.

Hermione beamed at him. “This would be great news!” She paused as she looked into the cauldron. “Is this for Dumbledore?”

Severus shook his head. “At first I thought it might help him, but, I realised the reason he is stuck the way he is is because the hexed ring is on his body. Since it transfigured him into a goat, the ring transfigured with him. It is not simply a hex that can be countered with a potion. We will have to do some… improvising of method.”

“Could we… transfigure his hoof into a hand, perhaps?” Hermione asked.

“That would not remove the ring,” Severus replied. “It would simply show us the ring and make for a very unhappy goat.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “When you hex a ring, my Master. You hex a ring.”

Severus averted his eyes.

“Draco is cranky, just so you know,” Hermione said randomly.

“Oh?” Snapes eyebrow lifted. “Why?”

“Pansy is pestering him to goto Hogsmeade this weekend with a bunch of Slytherin, and he can’t think of a good excuse to not go,” Hermione chuckled. “He had to take the Not-notice-me spell off his bed to make an official appearance in the dorm as prefect, and it, unfortunately, exposed him Slytherin social dynamics again.”

“Poor puppy,” Snape’s voice was riddled with amusement despite his impassive face. “Speaking of puppies…”

“He’s asleep under your desk,” Hermione chuckled, pointing her thumb towards the direction of his desk.

Severus grunted. “It won’t be long until he won’t fit under my desk anymore. At least my shoes are safe.”

“Yours perhaps,” Hermione said. “I think he’s chewing on the remains of Darcy Addlebury’s sneaker.”

Severus arched a brow. “I’m sure his parents will love getting the owl from their poor first year who lost his shoe only a week into classes.”

Hermione gazed at him innocently, shrugging.

“Help me bottle this before the class gets here,” Severus said. “I used the Re’em blood from my personal stores to make it, so it would be terribly wasteful not to properly bottle it up.

Hermione smiled. “Yes, Master,” she said with a grin, bouncing off to fetch the flasks.

Snape watched her go, his dark eyes flickered with his amusement.

Hermione returned a minute later with a bunch of flasks and the minature hippogriff carrying a funnel and ladle in his talons.

Severus smirked as he took the funnel and ladle from the little creature. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Little Vik chirped and landed on his shoulder, letting out a soft series of chirps and fluttered his wings as he rubbed up warmly against his neck.

“Aren’t you just invaluable?” Severus asked the little hippogriff.

Vik chirped decisively, agreeing.

Hermione grinned, patting the hippogriff on the wings with a lopsided smile. “Careful, Master. You’ll inflate his ego.”

“Too late, I fear,” Severus answered, using his finger to scratch the hippogriff under the chin.

Vik chirped approval as the two of them set to work bottling the golden potion.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hogsmeade was a strangely somber affair due to the cloudy muck that had replaced the more idyllic weather that normally descended upon the town. Snow was the standard affair on most days, but like most magical Wizarding towns, it could snow and be sunny at the same time.

This particular day seemed more like the storm clouds that proceeded a bad sort of weather change. People were staying indoors to eat instead of eating outside at the quaint little tables, even though each one was magically charmed to remain warm and dry even in the snow. Rosmerta was making a killing on chili and thick stews, warmed drinks, and comfort foods. Aleksander was busy cooking away on freshly made orders of food due to the influx of business caused by the indoor seeking crowds. Valko had made more sales of his Seasoning For a Rainy Day than any other in history, and Lazar had sold over a case worth of his self warming cocoa goblets in less than an hour. Gladrags was making quite a bit on the non-screaming wooly socks that changed colours when you walked.

While the weather was downright miserable, the shopkeepers enjoyed quite a bit of patronage that actually stuck around to browse more thoroughly than usual, so none of them were really complaining.

A handful of Aurors were hanging around the town, mingling in the crowds, and making themselves look inconspicuous, even with their distinctive brown uniform of office. Moody had convinced Kingsley, who had taken over for Scrimgeour, that after the problems in Diagon Alley, keeping Aurors in Hogsmeade would not be a waste of resources. The community seemed to agree, the shopkeepers offering the roaming Aurors drinks and smiles as they roamed from place to place. The support for the Aurors had gone up in the recent years thanks to their continued actions against the moves of Voldemort.

Draco grunted as Pansy dragged him from store to store, claiming that she hadn’t been able to hang out with him like they used to. It was true, he supposed, but Pansy had always showed more interested in hanging out with her girlfriends than him after forming such a tight “friendship” with the other Slytherin while serving under Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad. Whatever friendship he may have had with her before them went to the wayside, no longer providing her the kind of high profile excitement and attention she craved. It was quite normal for Slytherin to find the people who best assisted them to greatness, and Draco had made a point to be as lacklustre as possible… at least to those that didn’t truly know him.

There was something skirting along the sides of his awareness. Pansy’s devotion to dragging him around seemed a little strange to him. There was the chance that she was trying to reconnect to their initial friendship as younger children, but just as it was Slytherin nature to see opportunity in a situation, it was also Slytherin nature to suspect the worse before the best in unknown situations.

Draco breathed slightly easier as Pansy dragged him into the Aerie. She, like so many people before her, was sucked into the antics of the animated creatures in the window. He wondered how she would react if she knew that Hermione was one of the contributors of the little constructs. It would probably be the same reaction if she realised that Draco was also a part of the store.

Pansy cooed at a small prancing unicorn. It had disturbingly pink mane hair and purple dapples. Draco remembered how Hermione’s lip had curled when she made it, not because she disliked unicorns, per say, but because she found the colours so utterly… pastel. Hermione her father’s daughter? Oh, yes indeed.

Still, Draco mused, the store sold many pastel coloured unicorns and pegai, and Hermione continued to make them, despite the fact she preferred the more realistic colour variations… or at least, she confessed, less pastel.

Pansy fussed over the cute constructs as Draco sat down in the nearby armchair. Petya was watching him from the counter with a smirk on his face.

Petya inclined his head to Pansy, lifting a brow in a curious non-verbal question.

Draco shook his head adamantly, causing Petya to chuckle silently, his shoulders quaking in amusement.

Hermione was coming down the stairs quietly, and Draco frantically gestured at her with his hand from behind Pansy’s back.

Hermione dove back up the stairs and came back down a few seconds later looking like someone’s great grandmother. Her hair was straight and tied into a silver bun, her face wrinkled with age, and her clothes looked distinctly not like a potion apprentice’s.

“Awk, bába,” Valko scolded from the counter, rushing up to take her arm in his and escort her down. “How many times ve tell you if you want anyting, just let us know. Instead come down here on steep stairs.”

Hermione leaned into him, appearing like she couldn’t see any better than she could walk. She patted Valko’s hand shakily, muttering things in Bulgarian.

“Nonsense, bába,” Valko muttered. “Ve take you to tavern if you want to people watch.”

Petya, who came around the corner the moment Hermione had started to mutter in Bulgarian, took Hermione’s opposite arm and patted her. “Come, come, I take you, bába,” he cooed. “Ve leave poor Valko to watch counter.”

Draco stiffled his snickers as Petya helped their “grandmother” off to the tavern, making a note to tease his sister endlessly later.

Pansy, in the meantime, had scooped up the pink and purple unicorn and carried it to the counter.

Valko smiled at her. “Vould you like bag?”

Pansy nodded. “Yes, please.” She blushed as Valko stared at her intensely.

He gently ushered the little unicorn into a small nesting box and then placed the box into a bag for her.

Pansy looked a little pink as she passed Valko the galleons for her unicorn.

Valko smiled warmly, passing Pansy the bag. Pansy smiled back shyly, which Draco couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, and she came to join him in a nearby armchair.

Lazar came out with a tray of drinks and set them on the small coffee table in front of them, leaving them as if one of them had ordered them.

Draco shot Valko a look, and he shrugged at him innocently. Lazar had already disappeared into the back, so he would have to wait until he ditched Pansy, which might be a while considering how clingy she was being on this particular day.

Pansy sipped her tea as she let the little unicorn out of the bag and let it prance on her lap. Some of the other unicorns from the window nickered at hers, and the one her lap neighed back socially. Pansy let out an uncharacteristic smile. It was warm and kindly, and Draco had to fight the urge to rub his eyes.

“Do you ever… question our parents, Draco?” she asked suddenly, her gaze was far off as she looked out the snowy window. The outside light had gotten even darker and onimous; the outside street lamps had even flickered to life because of it.

Draco eyed Pansy carefully, evaluating her expression by minute details.

“I question a lot of what my father says lately,” Draco said with a sniff. “Seeing as he thinks he knows me best.” He twisted his voice into the aloof arrogance that was normal to his persona.

Pansy looked at him, her eyes flicking to his. For once, she was missing that cruel look that normally hung about her… the part of her that was always looking for weaknesses in others to manipulate, poke, and tear to pieces. “Things have been getting… strange in Slytherin lately, surely you have noticed,” she said. “Even for Slytherin.”

“How do you mean, exactly?” Draco asked, eyes narrowing. He quite expected her to say they had been too soft on the Mud-bloods lately or that they needed to start bullying Granger again out of principle.

“After last year, things were getting almost… tolerable between the houses,” she said. “I mean, we weren’t having tea together or anything, but we could at least unite under the banner that Umbridge was completely mental. Even those of us that were in the Squad realised after a while that she wasn’t bringing us the kind of attention we wanted.”

“You gave me the impression you quite liked the Squad, Pansy,” Draco sniffed. “You and Millicent both.”

“I did… at first,” Pansy confessed. She patted the unicorn in her lap a little more frequently, her lips pursed with conflict. “Have you ever… thought that… maybe our parents are wrong? I mean… I know you have Arick and Douglas reporting to your father and all, but —”

“Wait,” Draco said. “What do you mean Arick and Douglas are reporting to my father?” Arick and Douglas were fifth years with a serious case of Death Eater worship. They made no attempt to hide the fact they wanted to join the cause the moment they could.

Pansy paled. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes. “What did they tell him?”

“It was kind of odd really,” Pansy said. “They said all he wanted to know was the Hogmeade schedule. I figured it was so he could meet up with you. You’ve been so busy with being a prefect and all. You’ve hardly been around.”

Draco stood up suddenly. He rushed over to the counter and made it look like he was paying for the drinks. He leaned in towards Valko and whispered, “Father is up to something, close the wards. I’ll take Pansy to the safe zone at Hog’s Head. A few of the Aurors are there already. Please send a Patronus to Moody and my Uncle.”

Valko smiled and nodded, “Thank you for your business.”

Draco nodded, his body blocking the touch of his hand to Valko’s wrist with concern. The animagus gave him a reassuring nod.

As Draco guided a slightly confused Pansy out of the Aerie towards Hog’s Head, he felt the wards slam down over the Aerie to close it for anyone that was not a resident to their home. The warm and cheerful glow from inside went dark, and even the animated animals in the window seemed to be nestled in the dark window, still and huddled together as if for protection.

The walk towards Hog’s Head was just down the street, thanks to the Aerie’s mid-town location with the Post Office and and Honeyduke’s. Hog’s Head was that off beat place that everyone knew about but rarely talked about. Often Dark business occurred there under the cover of don’t-ask-don’t-tell. It was, though, a neutral meeting spot, where both Aurors and the shadier wizard and witch could meet without having to draw wands at each other, and it was something both sides valued for that reason.

Pansy panted next to Draco, trying to keep up with him, still confused as to how her comments had caused such an abrupt need for movement. Hermione was already standing with a group of Aurors, speaking with them hurriedly. The Patronus to Severus must have already been relayed, much to Draco’s relief.

A group of students with Professor Sinistra were being ushered towards Hog’s Head, and while Sinistra had concern on her face, the students looked quite confused. Draco scanned the faces to look for faces that looked out of place. Frustration, perhaps, instead of confusion… he wasn’t sure what he would see…

“Draco, what is going on?” Pansy panted. “Why… are people meeting up here?”

A group was heading in, followed by an Auror as Sinistra herded in the students she was watching. “Thank you for sending word, Auror Housman,” Sinistra said. “I fear some of the students are still wandering out there.”

Draco dragged Parkinson over to one of the small tables in the inn and sat her down. “My father developed a taste for Crucio over the summer, Pansy. Twenty or more of them he cast upon me. Trust me when I tell you, no one is safe from him.”

Pansy paled significantly.

The tingle of wards came slamming down over Hog’s Head, and Aberforth stepped forward. “I’ve put up what I can, but I will need volunteers to help feed energy into them.”

“I will,” Draco grunted, stepping up.

“And I will guard your back, young Malfoy,” Auror Bavin said, stepping out of the crowd.

“I’ll help too,” two of the seventh years chimed together. They looked to Sinistra for permission, and the Professor nodded grimly as she had her own wand out to shield those within the building with more spells.

“I will help bring back the missing students,” Hermione said. “Please cover me, Auror Firegrove.”

The Auror nodded. “You got it, Darlin.’”

It was shortly after the announcement when a Death Eater slammed into the front wards and was stuck like a fly in a web.

Hermione was there instantly, her hand clenched around the Death Eater’s throat as her wand was pressed into their throat.

“Stupefy,” she hissed into their face.

Draco cast Incarcerous shortly after, binding and gagging the Death Eater before casting a spell to fill his ears with the sound of hundred pianos being played by hyper two-year olds and blind him from seeing what was going on around them.

And the battle was on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In hindsight, Draco realised that he should have seen it coming. He wasn’t even sure if the Dark Lord even, truly, wanted him as one of his faithful to begin with. The Dark Lord had never once met him, enquired about him, or even shown interest in the children of his Death Eaters, unless those children were chomping on the bit to join his service that he could not ignore it. All he seemed to care about was were measures of power and influence, and Draco had been so very careful to appear disgustingly ordinary, even for a Malfoy. He could be smarter than Crabbe or Goyle without attracting any attention, but he made sure he was not an over-achiever that attracted the like of Horace Slughorn. He had truly had no hint of the Dark Lord’s interest, and it suited him just fine. His father, however, was not one to be slighted, especially by the likes of his own son. He was a Malfoy, Draco knew he would say. He had… expectations to uphold.

Denying his father was akin to defying the Dark Lord himself, at least, perhaps, in his father’s entitled mind. His son had defied him, his wife… disappeared. Tonks had said that his father had stormed into the Auror’s office demanding that they find his wife, which, had he not said in front of fifty or more Aurors that “she belonged to him and they needed to find her,” they might have actually taken his “request” more seriously.

What Draco had not expected, however, was that his father would manipulate his own classmates helping Death Eaters know exactly when the trips to Hogsmeade were. He was doing it without the Dark Lord’s blessing. Severus hadn’t heard of any whisper of activity at his latest meetings, and the Dark Lord wasn’t the type not to gloat over plans that involved Hogwarts.

All of this speculation was moot, however, as now there were students having helped Death Eaters not only know Hogwarts student movements, but also the times which they would do so. But, what the idiots didn’t seem to realise was that all the students going to Hogsmeade tended to go in plain clothes in the warm weather, so all their precious House colours were missing. And the Death Eaters arrived and starting lighting up the streets to take out Mud-bloods and blood-traitors… in the dark… without any visual cues of House to even hint who was who.

“This way, this way!” Draco hissed at the panicking students. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravensclaws, and Slytherin students dove behind him in a rush as he, Hermione, and a few shop keepers helped usher them into safer areas. He could… feel the magic of his father somewhere around him. He’d spent too many years under his father’s roof not to know the telltale whisper of his father’s magical signature. He was out in the chaos somewhere.

Spells were zinging over their heads, screams were coming from various places, and both residents, normal visiting folk, shop keepers, students, and the Hogwarts chaperons were attempting to manage the chaos in the midst of it all.

Draco concentrated on keeping the shield up as an Auror was guarding his back. Hermione was running out into the fray and helping escort trapped students to where it was safe. Sometimes the students didn’t want to move from their hiding places to a new place, and Hermione would send him a frantic hand gesture to inform him of the problem.

Gradually, one by one, Hermione got the last of the students into the protected area. More strength was being added to the shield as some of the elder year students were helping add their energy to the barrier. Professor Sinistra was keeping the students calm, protecting them as best she could from the panic as well as the random spells.

Aurors were apparating into the town in larger groups, driving the Death Eaters back. The Aurors were signalling to each other with gestures not unlike the ones Hermione and Draco used with each other. Draco saw Hermione signalling a response to a few of the Auror parties, and judging by the look of grimness on her face, he knew that there had been casualties.

There was a roar of fire coming from the centre of town, and Draco saw flames shaped into the head of a giant serpent flowing into the junction of the street.

Students were cowering in Hog’s Head as they saw it passing by the Post Office and Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. The flames were licking around the buildings, setting the awnings on fire as it passed.

A young boy and girl was running towards their mother on the street, tripping in the path of the fire, and Draco looked on in pure horror as the gaping flame serpent rose above him. Aurors were frantically trying to cast barriers around them in time and save the town from going up in enchanted flames.

And suddenly, there was a figure standing over the two fallen children, directly in the path of the fire. Their hair was alive with flames, and Draco knew immediately who had come to their rescue.

Aleksander faced down the fiery serpent, arms outstretched as he held his wand, looking for all the world as though he was going to embrace the fire in a hug. The serpent crashed down over the Bulgarian wizard with a roar that seemed to come from the belly of a dragon, and Draco could hear the mother screaming from the walkway as Aurors frantically held her back from running straight into the fire after her children.

Draco looked up and saw the sickly green skull created in unnaturally green stars and the serpent’s tongue form into the dark cloud of the Dark Lord’s mark, and he knew the Death Eaters had found at least one more victim.

There was a keening sound from the living fire that had engulfed Aleksander and the two children, and suddenly he saw the colour of part of the flames change. The flames shuddered as if caught in the ripple of waves, parting from a figure that burned so hot that the flames had turned white and then shifted into a heat so intense the flame burned blue.

Aleksander clapped his hands together and spat out a long chain of Bulgarian, white and blue flames surrounded the serpent of flames and seemed to take away both its magic and its flames, causing the serpent to dissipate into smoke before their eyes.

The flames that coated Aleksander’s body cooled to a softer orange red and then disappeared altogether, with only the colour of his hair hinting to the element that he controlled.

An earthen dome that had been hidden behind Aleksander’s walls of flames cracked open, and Valko stepped out, releasing himself and the two children from the protective structure. The two children ran to their mother, crying. Valko placed a hand on Aleksander’s shoulder and nodded to him as the Aurors gestured them to follow them down the street.

Lazar was running up with a group of Aurors, casting great waves of water through the town to douse the flames that had been set. More Aurors were herding civilians down the street towards Hog’s Head to the safety of the wards.

What seemed like an eternity later, the streets were eerily quiet, the dark clouds that had been gathering around Hogsmeade parted to expose the normal sunny skies, and the blaring skull of the Dark Lord was dispelled. It was only when Alastor Moody and a group of Aurors arrived at the tavern and said it was clear, that the Hog’s Head seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and tallies of who was safe and who was still missing began to take form.

Draco allowed himself to sit down with the others who had helped with the shielding on the Hog’s Head Inn. They looked wearily at each other.

Small groups of shopkeepers who had valiantly protected their customers while trapped in their stores began to peek out of their stores as the Aurors made their rounds throughout the town.

Draco saw a familiar set of mop black hair and sighed with relief. Potter and his group of friends seemed unharmed after apparently being trapped somewhere else in the town. Moody was sitting him down at the large circular fountain and talking with him. Draco wasn’t sure what his father’s true goal was with the attack on Hogsmeade. Causing random chaos seemed a little too much if he had come just looking for Draco. Had he been pursuing Potter? What could he have wanted if he wasn’t working on the Dark Lord’s bidding?

Draco shook his head wearily. He had a feeling it was going to be a long evening.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus staggered down the corridors down into the dungeon with his chest heaving. Pain radiated to every extremity from the chain of Crucio spells that he had been forced to endure. He hadn’t been alone in suffering the Dark Lord’s ire, no, but he had suffered his own “fair” share of agonising torture thanks to Lucius’ detour to Hogsmeade over the weekend.

The Dark Lord had gone to him first, of course, trying to strip the layers of his mind to find the reason for the attack on Hogsmeade, thinking that Severus had been privy to Lucius’ plan and not told him, but thankfully, the truth did set Severus free. He had known nothing. Lucius’ paranoia had thought ahead to exclude Severus from his mechanisations. Small favours.

Leaving Severus wheezing on the floor of the Manor, he went down the line of Death Eaters that had not been arrested at Hogsmeade until he ran into one that had been there. Once in the mind of the unfortunate minion, The Dark Lord spend a good hour tearing his mind apart for both details or signs of mutiny. Snape would have felt sorry for him, had he not known they went with Lucius to Hogsmeade and literally started blasting the place apart and tried to burn it down with fiendfyre just to send Draco a message.

The Dark Lord was not amused. He turned his red gaze to Lucius with a venomous glare, tearing into him with spell after spell that made Severus’s torture look like a day in the park feeding swans. “I care not about your blood spawn, Lucius,” Voldemort hissed at him. “I desire devoted followers who wish to be a part of my vision. I desire them to come to me willingly. I wish them to be adults in the positions of power that I can use! Young boys who only think they know what they want are useless to me. Pawns, perhaps, but not worthy of my Mark. As it is… some of you who have my Mark are starting to make me wonder if you are all BOYS as well!”

Lucius went flying into the air and slammed into the far wall, slamming into a tapestry and sliding down it with the dull thud.

“You could have killed Harry Potter, Lucius,” Voldemort glowered, walking over to place his clawed foot upon his neck. “This displeases me very much. This goes against my strict orders to ensure his safety.”

Lucius choked under the Dark Lord’s foot, knowing that if he had the audacity to attempt to pry his Lord’s foot off his neck, he would be in for far more pain than this.

Voldemort stormed across the room, his wand out as he threw curses at all of the present Death Eaters until none of them were standing anymore. “Severus,” he hissed.

“Yes, my Lord,” he wheezed, blood trickling from his mouth.

“Train your pet Apprentice in the Dark Arts,” Voldemort hissed. “Insure she is properly trained to protect Harry Potter from the likes of Lucius. Make sure she has plenty of time to watch over him. If any of these idiots are stupid enough to listen to Lucius’ requests again, I want them to die horribly to a Mud-blood witch as publicly as possible.”

Severus wheezed and coughed. “As you wish it, my Lord. It will be done.”

“You are dismissed, Severus,” Voldemort hissed. “I have conversations to have with those here you need not be present for.”

Severus has not needed a repeat order, and disapparated from the Manor as fast as wizardly possible.

His body was now in more agony than movement tolerated. He staggered, half slid, and half crawled to his chambers.

Hermione ran up to him in the dark corridor, putting her arm around him to help support him even as Draco came up on the other side to assist. Hermione’s disillusionment spell was cast over the three of them, allowing them to help him down the hall to his chambers without attracting undue attention.

As the portrait closed behind them, they guided him to the comfort of the fire, and eased him down on the cushion. Draco pulled a pillow up and a quilt even as Hermione shook a vial in her hand rapidly and brought it to his lips.

“Drink, my Master, please,” she pleaded with him, her panic radiating from their bond.

Cerberus cuddled up next to him, radiating his warmth as he struggled to drink from the flask. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to check what potion it was. The taste was strangely sweet, like honey, and it went down his throat like fire that spread throughout his body.

Hermione put another flask to his lips shortly after. He recognised the smell this time… blood-replenisher. She gave him another. Invigoration potion. She even gave him a Pepper-Up potion to keep him from lapsing into a cold due to the stress.

Severus was shivering, the strain on his body overwhelming him. There was a slithering against his neck. Warmth. Draco.

Suddenly he was laying next to a furnace, and he knew Hermione had cuddled up next to him, her heated gryphon body radiating the warmth he so desperately needed. Her wing cast over him to cuddle him close and he snuggled into her fur and the quilt as though his life depending on it.

Vaguely he heard the padding of paws and claws across the stone floor and another warm body curved around him from the opposite side. Viktor had arrived. His concern rippled through the bond as he tucked himself against Severus and provided more of the life-saving warmth he needed.

The warmth of the bodies cuddled next to him and their minds was the only thing he registered as blackness pulled him into much needed healing sleep.

 


	83. Unexpected Tranquiliser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts breaks out into a battle in Great Hall.  
> Ginny had a secret, and it wasn't a good one.  
> Harry manages to shift at last.

Chapter 83: Unexpected Tranquiliser

Severus woke slowly in the early morning warmth and a face full of gryphon feathers. His hand gently soothed her feathers with his fingers, and her soft purr rumbled against his skin as he did so. For the longest time, his nightmares had always been of Lily. Her death had haunted him almost every night for over a decade’s time. But now, he had a different sort of fear. He did not fear going to sleep to see Lily anymore. He feared waking up to being alone in a world where he was isolated in his own mind. He feared a world where his godson had taken the Mark to represent his misguided family obligations and where a young Gryffindor witch had repudiated him in both his past and his present.

Hermione’s warm brown eyes looked back at him set in a gryphon’s head. She chirped at him, taking his hand in her beak and grasping it playfully. Her talons wrapped around his robes and pulled him into her as she mock mauled him, her rear legs wrapping around his body as well. She snuggled into him with a rumble of pleasure, her mind filled with relief as she determined he was, after the previous night’s antics, okay.

Hermione’s exceedingly large gryphon body radiated both the all-encompassing heat she never failed to give off as well as her amusement, and her mind touched his with her familiar welcome. She never hid from him. Had she been the type to hold typical girlish social secrets, she would have laid them bare for him. As it was, the only thing she hid from him, or at least tried, was her own self-doubt—a remainder of her past she had not quite left behind.

Severus forgave her such small insecurities. He was hardly one to judge her on having insecurities, considering as many as he had growing up. He welcomed her into his mind all the same, and never failed to feel the warmth inside himself as she flooded into the cracks in his awareness, filling his empty spaces with her faith in him. It was a faith so strong he feared one day of letting her down by proving he was just like any other fallible man—capable of great things… and horrible mistakes.

Hermione gnawed on his neck with her beak and preened his hair, as if sensing his train of thoughts. Her love for him was molten, and she would remind him mercilessly that she knew he was not perfect, just as she was not perfect, but something greater than either of them had bound them together, and neither of them should argue over so great a gift as they had in each other.

:Insufferable know-it-all,: he muttered into her mind.

:I love you too, Father,” she replied warmly, proceeding to mock maul his body all over again until Severus was cuddled into her soft belly fur with a disgruntled oof.

She never held back her love for him. Her answers were always immediate, giving, and without expectation of return, but she also knew how he felt about her. Whether she knew what a powerful gift she gave him, he wasn’t sure. Consciously, she might know that he valued such things, but whether she truly knew what a painful void she had filled with her affection, he did not know for sure. It had been a deep chasm that had formed since he was a child, hiding from the heavy hand of his father. It had been an abyss he never thought to see filled because the depth of it had seemed to go on forever after he had been repudiated by Lily. Yet somehow, the bushy-haired witch filled the emptiness with her affection and loyalty. She gave him the complete trust no other had deigned to give him in all the years of his life, and then, as if to prove that his concepts of trust and forgiveness were completely wrong, she rewrote the rules of his life and gave him a Family and a Pack.

:I wonder, sometimes,: Severus rumbled. :What it would have been like if you had met Lily. Not… in the present, but in the past. If you had been the same age, growing up at Hogwarts when she and I did.:

:I would have given her a run for her money in Potions,: Hermione replied with amusement, her beak tugging at his robes.

Severus snorted. :I would have beaten you, insolent girl,: he replied. :In all things potion.:

:Whose to say we wouldn’t have been lab partners, working our way into Slughorn’s little club together?: Hermione ribbed him.

Severus smirked, rubbing the junction of her leg and body in the special spot he knew made her leg twitch.

Hermione purred softly, her leg twitching involuntarily. :Do you think we would have gotten along?:

His mind was silent for a while. :I think so. You do share some annoyingly similar Gryffindor qualities that would have given you common ground.”

Hermione clacked her beak and pressed it into Severus’ chest. :Psh. Everyone keeps telling me I’m too Slytherin anymore.:

:Change for the better,: he chuckled into her mind.

:Do you think we would have been friends?: Hermione asked.

Severus took a moment to mull over the question before answering. “I’m… afraid I would have been a difficult sell. My reputation was already… horrible.”

Hermione wedged her beak under his arm. :Have you forgotten my horrible start to Hogwarts involving being emotionally traumatised enough to be cowering in a bathroom to be attacked by a troll?:

Severus snorted into her fur. :I forget nothing, daughter. Nor your shallow lie that you tried to take it on by yourself to be valiantly rescued by Potter and Weasley.:

Hermione emitted a little more heat from her body in a gryphon blush. :I think we could have been quite a pair of friends, had you let me into you well guarded snarkiness.:

Severus scoffed indignantly. :You realise you do have somewhat of a superpower in your odd ability sneak in under my very carefully crafted shields? Much like how you have somehow wedged yourself under my hand and have me unintentionally rubbing your belly without realising it.:

Hermione hummed into his mind warmly. Her tail curled and thwapped into him with her amusement. :I confess. I adore getting my belly rubbed.: Her wings fluttered as his hand found one of her favourite spots to be rubbed.

Severus stretched out his muscles, half expecting there to be aches and pains from the previous nights torture, but they did not come. Hermione had tended his injuries well, which was something he was ultimately grateful for. She had become, whether she realised it or not, part Potions Apprentice and part Healer, mostly due to his unerring habit of showing up half dead at her feet after countless “tasks” given to him by his two opposing masters.

:Master,: Hermione said softly as he stood up.

:Hrm?: Severus replied.

:Minerva said to tell you that classes were cancelled on Monday for the memorial. The meeting for the staff will be today, this afternoon at two in the HeadMaster’s Office.:

Severus let out a soft sigh and nodded. :There is no good way to deal with the casualties of war. I do not envy Minerva her tasks ahead.:

Hermione stood up slowly, stretching out her lion legs and then her fore-talons. She head-bumped into Viktor’s canine head and he whuffed lowly, yawning slowly as all his pearly white teeth showed.

Viktor stood, shook off, and padded over, head-bumping into Severus and stood on his rear legs to place his forelegs on Severus’s shoulders so he could slam his large head into Severus’ shoulder and neck to get a good dose of the Potion Master’s scent.

Draco, who was still curled around Snape’s neck yawned sleepily and tightened his coils around his neck to prevent himself from falling off.

Severus shook his head, patting Viktor between the ears with amusement. The simurgh licked his hand before pouncing on his mate, tumbling her to the side, head over heels, and pinning her down for a long delayed grooming.

Hermione lay sprawled on her back, wings flared outward, legs up, and belly exposed while the dutiful simurgh groomed every bit of her over.

Draco’s forked tongue tickled his ear, and Severus touched his scales gently, feeling his warmth.

Severus allowed himself a small smile or relief as he enjoyed the feeling of having his Family close to him.

“Don’t you need to sneak back into the dormitories, Draco?” Severus said as he started to walk into the next room.

Draco’s tightened his coils around Severus’s neck, not wishing to be dislodged.

Severus soothed his scales with his hand. “Fear not, Draco. I’m not trying to shoo you off.” The coils around his neck loosened slightly, causing Severus to shake his head with amusement. He knew Draco wouldn’t uncoil himself from his person until he was sure Severus had recovered fully from the previous night’s ordeal. “Just don’t blame me if I get toothpaste on you,” he said dryly, continuing his trek towards the bathroom sink.

Draco didn’t seem to mind as he coiled lazily around his godfather’s neck, happy to be carted around from place to place and keep his godfather company.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The next few days passed with a somber note to them. Rufus Scrimgeour came to speak at the memorial service for the students and citizens that had been casualties from the Hogsmeade raid, but unlike his predecessor, he encouraged the public to remain strong against the threat but not be foolhardy either. Hogsmeade could have been much worse, he admitted, had everyone not worked together to protect each other, and that was the key facing the dangers of war. The Wizarding community must remain vigilant, help their Aurors help them, and help each other to remain strong. The Ministry encouraged the community to rely on each other to not be caught unaware.

Every House had taken a casualty, and gave the students all something in common… something real to float in front of their faces about the war. The war spared no one. It didn’t spare shy Dawnielle Cogswell from Ravenclaw, happy and ever helpful Hufflepuff Jaci Salamander, enigmatic Barhloew Bulstrode, and James Macmillan from Gryffindor. Out of the four casualties from Hogwarts, two of them were of pure-blood families, seeming to prove once and for all that the war spared no one and the illusion that your blood would spare you was dispelled once and for all.

During the service, however, there were a handful of students that seemed all too proud of themselves. However, Slytherin House had seemed to undergo its own reformation after the Hogsmeade attacks. Many amongst them had been injured along with the rest of the student body. Many had hunkered behind the shields Draco and the seventh years had helped reinforce while people were dying in the streets. The glory stories given to many of them by their parents were no longer as glorious now that they had suffered under the agents of the Dark Lord.

Millicent Bulstrode, once adamant supporter of the pain and suffering of others, blazed a path of fury as she stormed towards the heckling Arick and Douglas of Slytherin House. Her cousin, Barhloew had been a quiet and sweet natured lad. He kept to himself most days, was well liked by his professors, and was even more amazingly friends amongst many other Houses, unlike Millicent. He was, in many ways, the true Slytherin. He had not limited himself to other Slytherin to reach his goals. He made allies amongst all the Houses. So when Millicent stormed her furious way towards Arick and Douglas, no one stood in her way.

Yet, it seemed, Millicent did not forget that pulling her wand out at another student was still grounds for expulsion, but in her anger, she needed no wand.

The crowds of Slytherin students stepped aside as she decked Arick Ashwinder with a perfect left hook and grabbed Douglas Wassell by the robes and threw him up against the wall of the Great Hall, screaming at them for murdering her cousin and being responsible for the other murders as well.

“Your wanna-be Death Eater mechanisations killed my cousin. Your supposed friend!” Millicent raged. She pulled out a folded piece of parchment from her robes, causing Arick and Douglas to cringe. “I found your little note asking if you were good to take the Dark Mark after you finished your task!” She threw the note down on them.

At this point, a few things happened at once. Aurors appeared out of the crowd to pull the wrathful Millicent off her House mates to keep her from kicking them into a pulp as well as prevent Arick and Douglas from leaving, and Rufus Scrimgeour lifted the parchment from the floor and read it, his lion-like mane of hair framed his dour looking face.

The Aurors dragged Millicent from the Great Hall, who was screaming that she would see the two of them pay for what they did. Scrimgeour nodded curtly to the other Aurors and they put Arick and Douglas under arrest, or at least made the move to do so.

The moment the Aurors got close enough to them, the pair gained a second wind from their beating at the hands and feet of Millicent, pulled out their wands, and the world went pear-shaped.

“For the Dark Lord!” Arick yelled, flinging curses and hexes, using the bodies of his fellow Slytherin to keep from being counter attacked. A few people attempted to disarm him, but the spells slammed into the unfortunate students that were standing in the way instead.

Students scrambled to get out of the way of the commotion, while other students, cursed with curiosity, tried to get close to see what was happening and put themselves into harm’s way. Professors struggled to herd the students out of the Great Hall, but only some succeeded before Douglas caused a greater panic by casting Crucios from behind a first year he was holding in in arm lock.

Professors sprung into action, throwing up shields and wards to protect their students. Seventh years scrambled into action to help, reinforcing the shields so their professors could concentrate on deflecting the curses that were directly coming their direction.

Aurors were working to keep the deflected spells from hitting innocents, their wands working in tandem to keep all the spells hitting harmlessly above them them rather than to the crowds.

First and second years were crying out in terror, diving behind the stacked tables and chairs. Older year students were hugging them, keeping them close to them. Houses no longer mattered. Gryffindors sheltered Slytherin. Slytherin protected Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs created a wall around the Ravenclaws as they erected a wall of fog to obscure the students and professors from the fighting. Luna linked hands with a number of Ravenclaws and used their wands to stack the tables and chairs up in a linked wall. Professor Flitwick waved his wand and caused the mist wall and the wall of tables and chairs to merge.

Septima Vector arched her wand across the room, and hundreds of equations spewed from her wand, merging with the walls. Every time a spell hit the walls, the equations glowed, absorbing the magic instead of letting it bounce off and hurt bystanders.

Aurora Sinistra waved her wand, and the Great Hall’s ceiling shifted into sunny skies, ensuring that there were shadowed places in which to hide where the fight was going on.

Pomona Sprout and a group of her Hufflepuff coaxed great vines out from the floors, weaving around the wall of tables and fog, reinforcing the protective barrier around their students.

Hermione and Rolanda Hooch were half dragging the staggering Sybill Trelawney to safety behind the wall. The divination professor was as oblivious as always. She shuffled behind the wall as though she were being hurried off to a Quidditch game or dinner. Had the situation not been so dire, it would have been comical.

Charity Burbage was checking on the first and second years, helping the older students tend to them. Her warm and compassionate tending helped keep the students from blind panic.

Severus stood guard over the one opening for the students to flee to. His dispassionate face didn’t change as he deflected spell after spell to make a path for stragglers to duck in behind him.

One by one, Minerva yanked student after student towards her and away from the fight, pushing them into the protected area. With each student and civillian she rescued, the Aurors had more room to manoeuvre.

Fred and George and a group of the honorary eighth years were rushing over with a group of children they had been shielding on the further side of the Great Hall. They had a protective bubble erected around them as they dashed. Arick sent a piercing spell at him, and George yelled, clutching his ear in pain as they shooed the children into the protected area. Ginny, Harry, and Ron rushed up to meet them. Ginny ushered the children to their frightened parents, and Harry and Ron tended to George’s head. The piercing spell had sliced into the side of his head, nicking his ear, giving him the look of an elf. The blood was streaming down his robes, and Harry scourgified a piece of cloth and wrapped his head and ear with it to tie him over until Pomfrey could see to it.

Harry squeezed George’s arm as he looked at him, glad that he made it to the safe zone with less than fatal injury. George looked up at him and nodded. Relief flickered in his eyes.

Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eyes and saw Crabbe moving about behind the shield instead of staying with the others. Goyle was no where in sight, and that alone made him look more closely. Crabbe was walking up behind Remus, and he saw him reach into his robes and start to pull out his wand.

Harry was moving without a word, pushing off the ground he was kneeling on to tend to George with a hurried grunt. He was fumbling for his wand in his own robes, and desperately tried to get his attention in the roar of voices that was around him.

The tendrils of the pack song snapped in his mind, drawing tight.

“I am Harry the Ringtail, and through me may all know the value of loyalty and perseverance. May those that know me know me find inner resilience and the strength to endure any hardship,” the song sang in his ears and his mind and his soul. :REMUS! LOOK OUT!: his warning was not telepathy, but it was not truly a voice. His warning was an emotion carried on the notes of the pack song. It was a warning that came in images, pulled at the heart of his love for the werewolf that was so much more than just a friend of his late father.

Remus didn’t even turn around. He dropped to the floor like a boulder as a spell slammed into the wall behind him.

Harry pounced on Crabbe in a full body tackle, slamming into his body and using Crabbe’s own momentum and weight against him. Crabbe stumbled and slid across the floor. He spun to try and wrestle with Harry, his wand pointed at Harry’s head.

Remus yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

Crabbe’s wand went flying off into places unknown.

“Incarcerous!” Ginny yelled, and Crabbe was bound in ropes.

One of the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs pulled out a roll of what looked like silver coloured tape from their robes and cut a piece off, using it to cover Crabbe’s mouth and keep him from casting. Every time Crabbe attempted to say something, it came out as a bunch of duck noises.

Crabbe was writhing on the ground in the ropes, trying to free himself, but as he did so, his robe sleeves moved down from his wrist and exposed his arms. The Dark Mark writhed upon the skin of his arm, moving like something alive and angry. Students, staff, and civilians gasped in horror as the evidence of the Dark Lord’s minions was emblazoned for all to see.

Lupin and Slughorn were immediately in attendance, making sure Vincent Crabbe was properly silenced, knocked out, bound, and made unavailable for the remainder of the battle.

It was around this time that Harry remembered about Goyle, and mouthed “Goyle” to Fred, Ginny, and Ron. The four of them looked around in the crowd, looking for signs of Crabbe’s compatriot in arms.

Nothing.

Draco came stumbling in from the other side, ushering a group of civilians in from battle side, he had a few bleeding slashes on his head and arms.

The people he was assisting ran forward to join their family members, and Draco’s eyes went to Crabbe’s tied up body with a sort of heavy weariness. He staggered a little, and Pansy was there, helping him, easing him to the ground as she tended his wounds much as Harry had tended George only minutes before.

Draco’s eyes flicked to Harry’s briefly, long enough to confirm he was okay, before he cast his head down and slumped into the group to be tended by a cluster of students near him.

“Where is Hermione?” Ginny demanded, glaring at Draco as though it were his fault she wasn’t there.

Harry shook his head. “She’s probably out there. Helping like Malfoy.”

Ginny was trying to creep out the door Snape was guarding, and his arm went around her, keeping her from going into the fray. I spell slammed into the wall next to them, and Snape hissed angrily, pushing Ginny back into the protected area.

Harry dragged her back with help from Fred and Ron. “What the hell are you doing, Ginny?” Ron yelled. “The Aurors are trying to keep us safe back here and you’re trying to run into the fight!”

“But… Hermione!” Ginny argued.

“Can take care of herself, if you haven’t been paying attention for the last six years,” Fred growled at her.

Ginny looked unconvinced and conflicted.

Ron, who had seen many a situation with his sister, seemed to read between the lines. “Ginny, what did you do?”

Ginny looked at him with pleading eyes, wringing her hands like her mother was prone to do.

“Ginny, what did you do?” Ron insisted.

“She was just always so vigilant all the time and I wanted to spend time with her last night, so I slipped her one of Fred and George’s tranquil chocolates when we were sharing candy so she’d be too tired to go back to Snape last night,” Ginny confessed.

Harry, Ron, and the twins looked at Ginny like she had grown a second head that looked like Dolores Umbridge.

“Why would you even consider doing that?” George moaned from the floor, holding his head where his ear throbbed.

A blood-curdling scream ended their conversation, and the sound of multiple stupefy spells went off in rapid succession, and the Great Hall was deathly silent.

Snape poked his head in and nodded to Flitwick and the other professors, and they worked to bring down the walls, wards, and shields as well as the pile of furniture.

Aurors had surrounded a number of Dark Lord supporters in the fight that had come out of the woodwork to Arick Ashwinder and Douglas Wassell’s rallying call. There were five students bound on the floor of the Great Hall, and much to the horror of the student body, other than Arick and Douglas, the only other Slytherin had been Crabbe, and he hadn’t been counted in the totals. The other three had been from the other Houses of Hogwarts, giving proof that not everything that supported the Dark Lord came from Slytherin.

Hermione stood next to Rufus Scrimgeour and Alastor Moody. Alastor had pulled up a chair for Hermione to sit in, and Rufus was nodding his head to something Moody was saying. Hermione slumped in the chair, her head resting against Cerberus, who was laying his head on her lap.

“That’s a fine animal you have there, Apprentice Granger,” Scrimgeour said. “Though, I think that Mr. Larrabee will disagree with me.”

The group peered down at the bound Hufflepuff with a bleeding arm in distinctively three places. Aurors began moving him onto a stretcher and carrying him out of the hall to where they could apparate. One by one the rest of combatants were lifted to their feet to be escorted out.

But as Arick was being walked out, he sneered at Hermione with a smug smile. “You think you’re so good, don’t you Granger? Well, while you were wasting your time dancing with me, you and your blood-traitor friends’ families are dancing too. I wonder… if they dance as good as you?”

“Get that filth out of here!” Moody barked.

A cold and emotionless expression had transformed Hermione’s tired expression into something dangerous. Her eyes had gone from warm brown to black.

Severus stiffened from his place across the room and was already heading towards her without a word being said.

“Potter! Weasleys! Over here now!” Moody snapped. “Someone get me Kingsley, now!”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry rushed up to Hermione as they all gathered at Grimmauld Place. Severus had cast the entire room in Muffliato to prevent Kreacher or any of the portraits from spying on them.

“Are your parents okay?” Harry asked.

Fred and George had Hermione in a dual hug, but she looked up to meet his gaze. “They’re fine, Harry, thanks,” she said softly.

Sirius sat beside them. “Alastor says this Arick person made up the threat to get everyone worked up to distract them from something bigger, but he couldn’t say what that something bigger was.”

“Did you see Professor McGonagall’s face?” Harry said sombrely. “She’s taking everything so hard.”

“I can’t blame her, mate,” Ron said with a sigh. “She’s acting Headmistress while Dumbledore is away, and not even half a term in, she has people dying and Death Eaters sprouting up in the Great Hall trying to kill the other students.”

Harry nodded grimly.

Hermione was laying her head over Cerberus’ three heads, her arms around the pup as if seeking a kind of comfort that could only come from his devoted and nonjudgmental support. Her eyes were still drifting closed as a weariness was upon her. Her pale complexion seemed even more pale, and her bone white fingers clutched Cerberus’ dark fur in stark contrast.

“I’m just glad our families are okay,” Hermione said with exhaustion, slumping over Cerberus in a dead sleep.

Harry, Fred, George, and Ron all simultaneously turned to look at Ginny, who shrank into her chair, guilt-stricken.

“Apprentice,” Severus rumbled, his dark robes moved across the room in silence as he knelt beside Hermione. His pale hand touched her forehead as his pale elongated fingers brushed across her skin and hair. His fingers touched the side of her neck, and he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her in a strange semblance of an old Muggle movie monster.

Hermione didn’t wake as he pulled her to his body and carried her up the creaking staircase to a quiet room. Cerberus trotted behind him, heads all focused on the bundle in his arms.

“Ginny,” Sirius said lowly. “What did you do do?”

Ginny turned away from his penetrating gaze.

Like a spectre, Snape returned with an eerie silence, walking across the room to get back to where Moody and Kingsley were talking with Molly and Arthur.

He stopped in front of Ginny, staring down at her as though she had just blown up a cauldron, and she reacted in kind, far too conditioned to shrink away from him than not.

“If you ever even think of drugging my Apprentice again, Ms. Weasley,” Severus said with voice that was both velvet and venom. “I will be sure she knows exactly what you did, and I am sure whatever reaction she will have will have on discovering that her best friend slipped her a mickey will pale in comparison to what I would find appropriate punishment for you.”

Ginny looked wide-eyed at Snape.

“This is a war, Miss Weasley,” Snape said coldly. “You are fortunate that I have taught her to function when normal people would simply fall over with exhaustion.”

Severus glowered down at the youngest Weasley, and for once, she was getting no sympathy from those around her in the face of Snape’s wrath. She had knowingly drugged Hermione to put her off her game for the most selfish of reasons, and even Ron seemed to realise how utterly foolhardy it was to do anything to Hermione while Snape was her Master, let alone if Snape told his Apprentice the real reason she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Severus exited the room in a swirl of black fabric, and the warmth of the room slowly started to trickle back in after he left.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was pacing outside Snape’s chambers. Had there been a rug outside his chamber door, there would have been quite an indentation worn within it. The craziness from the post-Hogsmeade drama mixed with the battle in the Great Hall part two was finally coming down to a dull roar. The Slytherin Common Room and corridor were strangely silent, and Harry’s worry that he would be seen pacing outside the Potion Master’s private quarters was thankfully lessened.

It was common knowledge that Hermione was still a member of Harry’s infamous Golden Trio, but Harry didn’t want to give the Slytherin any more reason to give Hermione or Snape grief by lurking outside Snape’s quarters.

Aurors were now patrolling the hallways now as well as the professors, and students, without orders to do so, were staying in travel groups as well as trying to stay in the Common Rooms as public gathering areas as much as possible.

McGonagall had reinforced the wards around Hogwarts to insure that students felt safe again, but the wounds caused by the inner betrayals in the various Houses had left the kind of wounds that did not heal so easily. But, as if to prove that horrible things were capable of bringing people together, the separate Houses had come together in a sort of truce and solidarity, and no student walked alone, even if it meant Slytherin and Gryffindor walking side by side.

Harry, however, didn’t want to be seen. He had slipped out from the Gryffindor Common Room while the twins and Ron continued to read Ginny the riot act for her thoughtless attempt to garner more time from her friend. While he could understand that the red-headed witch was missing Hermione terribly and wanted to spend more time with her, what ever happened to simply asking “Hey, Hermione. Could you sleep over tonight? I miss you,” instead of “here have a chocolate!” and then having the aftereffects linger on from the tranquilising chocolate for the next few days.

When the twins had asked their sister how many of the chocolates she had given Hermione, their sister had admitted that she had lost count at five, and both Fred and George looked completely appalled.

“Those weren’t meant to taken enmasse!” George had yelled, wincing as he clutched his bandaged ear.

“You realise what you’ve done?” Fred moaned. “She’d going to see them in our store and put it together.”

The arguments went on and on, just about every time Ginny tried to explain herself, and Harry no longer wanted to be around it. He wanted to be next to his sister and make sure she was okay.

The pack song, he noticed, was stronger, and it called to him like a siren song. Members of the pack were other side of the portrait portal. He could feel it more clearly now, and he wanted desperately to be there too.

Harry paced, not even realising that his stature was shrinking. He muttered to himself, not even realising that what he was muttering was coming out all wrong. It wasn’t until he put his hands out on the stone wall under the portrait that he realised he was staring at very distinctively furry black padded raccoon paws.

He moved his head closer to inspect the surreal development and CLANK. Something hard hit the wall, jarring his head with a loud noise.

Harry scrambled backwards and ended up sitting on his rump. He took his hands and felt around on his face. Muzzle? Check. Sharp teeth? Check. Pointed ears and whiskers? Check and check. He stuck his paw into his mouth and felt around, feeling the inside of his mouth to try and figure out what shape it was. His hand-like paws felt around on his head and he boggled as he felt the distinctive bone-like growths of antlers on his head.

Antlers?

Harry chittered in alarm, spinning around to try and look at himself, but failing, his ringed-tail was poofed out like a bristle brush looking like he had just stuck his hands into a Muggle electrical outlet. Harry was freaking out now and he spun around, climbed the wall like a mountain climber, and got stuck in the heavy deep emerald curtain that was draped on one side of the guardian portrait.

His claws and antlers got caught in the fabric and he writhed around, trying to free himself, but no sooner did one claw get untangled, then something else got re-tangled. He started to gnaw on the curtain in desperation, but all he manged to do is drool profusely on it. The fabric was, apparently, freak of nature-proof.

Footsteps were approaching now, and Harry held still, hoping against all reason that no one would notice the raccoon dangling from the portrait curtain, suspended by his rear leg claws.

“It seems… congratulations are in order,” Draco’s droned softly as he traced his hand in a complex gesture over the portrait and muttered something that sounded like he was putting Latin into a blender and set it on pulverise. The portrait door swung open and Draco grasped Harry by the scruff of the neck, using his hands to untangle his claws and antlers from the curtain. “Well, you definitely are a member of the right Pack with your freak of nature animagus form,” he said with amusement, pulling Harry against his shoulder as he carried him into the chambers.

As the portrait closed behind them, Harry felt the wards slam down behind them, wasting no time reestablishing the protective shields that made Snape’s chambers the refuge unmatched by any place save Grimmauld Place, and part of Harry wondered if the Lair was, in fact, better protected.

Draco didn’t even bother to stop in the entryway, and instead walked directly back into the Lair. Harry clamoured over Draco’s shoulder, cooing and chittering.

Draco set Harry down in the nearby armchair and then allowed his inland taipan form to take over. He slithered over towards where Hermione was sleeping by the fire, her black robes sprawled over the sleeping cushion. She was nestled between the legs of her mate and her Master.

Severus was reclined on Viktor’s side, a tome open in one hand as he read. Hermione was sharing space between then, draping herself across Snape’s lap as Viktor’s wing curved over them both.

The simurgh rumbled lowly as Draco slithered in, working his way around Hermione’s neck. Draco’s head rose to touch noses with the simurgh, and Severus’ hand gently moved across Draco’s head and back, soothing his scales. Draco disappeared around Hermione’s neck soon after.

Harry flopped onto the floor with a grunt, pausing to run his paws across his ears and face habitually. He groomed his tail into fluffiness and inched his way forward.

Two pairs of black eyes watching Harry as he approached, and Harry kept his head and belly to the floor, reaching out tentatively to place his paws on Snape’s knee. Harry kept his eyes averted, waiting for some signal that he was welcome to continue his approach, or, if either Snape or Viktor so chose, drive him away.

Snape’s hand gently touched the space between his ears, rubbing the joint of his antlers and ears with his finger tips and then he turned his gaze away, silently giving him permission to stay. Viktor, taking the silent cue from Severus, flared his nostrils and lay his head down next to Severus’ side, his eyes closing as Snape’s hand gently stroked his large canine ears.

Harry cooed softly and slunk in to snuggle up against Hermione, wedging himself under her arm as she slept. Hermione stirred, wrapping her arm around his round body and pulled him in like a pillow, pressing her face into his fur and somehow managed not to get entangled in his oddball miniature antlers. She did not wake, but the thrum of the pack song resonated between them, and Harry felt immediately better.

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” Severus rumbled, his eyes not leaving his book. “It seems you have been practising successfully.”

Harry looked up at Severus from his position being used as a furry raccoon pillow, whiskers twitching.

“Or, was this transformation unexpected, and you are, in fact, unsure if you can return to your more familiar human form?” Severus continued to read his book, not even bothering to look at as Harry frantically groomed his own ears.

Severus smirked. “Hermione should be able to guide you out of it in the morning, however, for now… let her sleep off the last of that annoying little concoction Miss Weasley so generously overdosed her with.”

Harry squirmed slightly in Hermione’s grip in order to perk his ears towards Severus, giving him his undivided attention in a way he had always had trouble with before. The comfort from the pack song gave him a sense of ease that he never thought he would have sharing the same space as Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.

“The twins gave me the ingredient list to their doctored chocolates when they found out she had been given them,” Severus rumbled softly. “I’ve been giving her the antidote slowly to prevent jarring her system. She does, I’m sure you will agree, need the rest. I would have preferred it be… of her own choosing, however.”

Viktor growled softly, and Severus placed his hand under his jaw and scratched gently, soothing the simurgh’s protective instincts.

Harry made a soft cooing sound.

“It has not always been like this,” Severus said softly, “between myself and Hermione.”

Harry perked his ears at Hermione’s name.

“We started much as you and I,” he said softly, staring into the fire. “Always at odds, an insufferable know-it-all against a brooding Potion Master whose intolerance for imbeciles was matched only by his intolerance for Gryffindors. We both believed the other incapable of change.”

Harry chittered softly.

“Then, one day, she became my Apprentice,” Severus said into the fire. “My world came crashing down. My carefully guarded failures laid bare to one bushy haired witch with the audacity… to forgive what no one else would… to listen to me as though what I said held every answer to every mystery on Earth… and to follow my commands even when she knew I was making up rules as I went along. And one day—I was no longer alone. Here.” Snape pointed to his head. “And here,” he said, pointing to his heart.

Severus turned his dark eyes to Harry, and Harry met them without the trepidation or the defiance that had plagued his relationship with the dark professor for upwards of five years. “That was the start of this song you feel. This whisper of verses in a song that never leaves you. The feeling as though you will burst to pieces if only to feel the touch of your pack once more. The relief that no one outside the pack can even fathom when the scent of those imprinted on your very soul alights upon your skin… These are the things we protect. I trust you can now understand why we fight as hard as we do.”

Harry cooed softly, reaching out his hand-like paw and placing it on Snape’s darkly clad knee, his distinctive green eyes staring into Snape’s obsidian black irises.

Severus closed his book and placed it on the table as he stretched and allowed himself to slump between Viktor and Hermione. His arm curled around Hermione as Viktor’s wing curved around them all, his peacock tail fanning outward and then curling around them.

Severus extinguished the lights with wave of his hand, and Harry settled in Hermione’s arms, content to have her near and using him as a comfort pillow. There was a soft slithering as Draco moved in to coil both around both Harry and Hermione’s necks. Harry’s eyes began to drift shut as he felt rather than heard Minerva’s distinctive purr rumble nearby. Harry found he could see in the “dark” room quite well and watched the acting Headmistress curl up in the crook of Snape’s arm completely unabashed.

“Welcome to the Pack, Harry Potter,” Snape’s voice rumbled into the quiet of the room.

As Harry fell asleep, he feel the presence of Remus sleeping in another part of the castle, his godfather soaking himself into oblivion in his favourite tub back at Grimmauld Place, and the four elemental bird-balls perched on their favourite perches back at the Aerie. Cerberus yawned next to him, snuffling Harry with all three heads before relaxing against him.

Harry snuggled into Hermione’s arms allowing the song to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is more of a peeve to me in the HP universe than the absolutely seemingly inept/complacent professors of Hogwarts. Hogwarts had the best of the best. They were known to be the best of the best. (Ok so… Lockhart was a putz… and Quirrell was the Dark Lord’s pawn (one could argue that save Remus Lupin, that all the DADA professors had a jelly hex on their brains)…but the other professors weren’t exactly idiots. I would like to think, that the canon story wasn’t all from Harry Potter’s POV (and also revolved around him… and you can’t really be a hero if the adults are doing everything, I suppose) that the Wizarding adults would be… more proactive! I figure even if Hogwarts is neutral, like Sweden, that they would still do everything they could to protect their students instead of sitting around like ducks in the reeds, waiting for Harry Potter and company to rescue everyone.


	84. Sleep the Day Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is suffering aftereffects from the drugged chocolates.  
> Remus introduces Tonks to the Pack.

Chapter 84: Sleep the Day Away

Harry woke up draped in Draco Malfoy, and he found that he didn’t mind at all. He also found that he was quite human in appearance, with no signs of oddball antlers, masked muzzle, or ringed tail, but the pack song, which had almost driven him mad to get from the other side of the portrait to this one was now a gentle whisper in his mind. Instead of just being able to sense those nearest to him, he could feel the multiple presences in his head, but unlike his experience with having Voldemort in his head, he felt absolutely at ease.

Draco slithered against his neck, this slender tongue tickled Harry’s chin as he yawned fanglessly into his face. The Inland Taipan was utterly lazy, sleepiness rolling off him in waves.

Harry chuckled. Never in his life did he think he’d see such a side to Draco Malfoy, bane of Muggle-borns extraordinaire. Draco slithered off his neck and flopped onto the cushion and stood up as a human.

“It’s a bit surreal, isn’t it, Ringtail?” Malfoy smirked as he nudged Harry with his elbow.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, feeling a bit discombobulated. “It feels… peaceful though.”

Draco chuckled. He leaned in and sniffed Harry curiously, his tongue flicked out in a reflection of his serpent self. “Hermione is right. You do smell like nutmeg.”

Harry blushed. “She’s been smelling me all this time?”

“Don’t get all awkward,” Draco laughed. “She really can’t help herself. Both she and Viktor even beat out Moony and Padfoot at the scenting game.”

“Really?” Harry blinked. “I would have thought…”

“Moony is a lazy wolf,” Draco grunted. “Couldn’t you tell from your times here during the full moons? Now that he has a Pack, he’s perfectly content to curl up by the fire like a farmer’s hound and sleep the night away. As for Padfoot, even he admits that when it comes to scenting, those two beat him out every time.”

Harry boggled. “I wonder why. I mean… it’s not that I doubt their skill, but, when I think of tracking, I don’t usually think…”

“Gryphon?” Draco offered. “Canine headed freak of nature?”

Harry laughed. “Right.”

“Says the raccoon with antlers and wings,” Draco snickered. “That’s rich.”

“Wings?” Harry repeated.

Draco lifted a brow at Harry. “I think that curtain you got tangled up on stole every lick of sensory self-awareness you had, Ringtail.”

Harry tried for apologetic, but the only expression his face was up to was sheepish.

Draco gave Harry a very Snape-ish expression.

Harry fidgeted nervously and sniffed a little, then blushed.

Draco tilted back his head and laughed. It was as genuine laugh, filled with a lightheartedness that he could never show outside the company of the Pack. Harry found that it suited him much better than the stone-faced or arrogant expression he tended to wear in outside world.

“Go ahead and sniff me, Potter,” Draco smirked at him. “I know you want to.”

Harry felt very self conscious, but this feeling inside him was making large demands on his delicate sensibilities that told him how the world worked. Having graduated, of sorts, into the Pack, he found that all those preconceived notions he once though as immutably as gravity were… not as solid as he once believed.

Harry leaned in and slowly, tentatively, sniffed.

Draco lifted a brow at him. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter, I’m not going to bite your head off.”

Harry pressed his nose into Draco’s shoulder, and caught the strong scent of… one of the teas he remembered from Sirius’ tea cabinet. Earl Grey he seemed to recall. Draco smelled like Earl Grey tea and… the old field he used to walk by to get away from Dudley. It was the same scent of freshly mown hay right after a rain. Harry boggled at the revelation, and then boggled again when he realised he was sniffing Malfoy as one would evaluate the scent of an exotic flower.

Harry turned away and flushed a little.

Draco laughed. “You’ll get used to the touchy feely part after a while,” he said with a smirk. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed by it.”

“You realise that you saying that of all people is just adding to the surreal feeling right?” Harry huffed.

“What?” Draco snorted. “You think because I’m Slytherin that I’ll spontaneously combust if I hug someone?”

Harry averted his eyes.

Draco shook his head. “Honestly, you Gryffindor are horrible,” he scoffed, but his face was twisted into a grin.

Harry laughed and shook his head.

Draco started out of the Lair and gestured for Harry to follow. “Can’t stay in the Lair forever, Potter. Time for you get all the sniff and greet out of the way.”

Harry flushed and followed Draco out with disconcerted look upon his face.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione was still groggy. Her mind was fuzzy, and she woke for the fifth time the same day. Never in her life had she ever felt so inclined to hibernate. Part of her wondered if she’d been bitten by a were-grizzly and was was going to hibernate half her life a away. Wouldn’t that be an amusing thought…a gryphon who turned into a grizzly bear on full moons? The thought caused her to snort.

She inhaled slowly and smelled the distinctive nutmeg scent of Harry as fur tickled her nose. “Mmmph,” she grunted, pulling the furball closer so she could bury her face into his soft fur.

Harry cooed softly, placing his paw on her face.

Hermione lapsed back into half-sleep, pulling Harry closer to her chest and burying her face into his fuzziness.

The pack had literally taken shifts watching over her as she slept, making sure that she was not left to wake alone. Aleksander had been the one to explain it. Waking up alone was probably the worst thing any of them could experience when recovering from an ailment, and Harry now understood the need to touch and be touched much more clearly. Each time Hermione ran her hand across his fur and pulled him close, he was filled with a comforting sense of rightness

As Hermione stirred, Harry felt her mind struggling to emerge from the haze the drugged chocolates had induced in her. Her scent had an odd tang to it that he could only presume was her frustration. Hermione was far from oblivious. She would realise something was off on her game, and Severus would not lie to her if she asked him a direction question. Well… Harry wouldn’t lie to her either, even though he wanted to protect Ginny from her own stupidity with drugging her best friend. Ginny, he knew, had no idea what kind of wrath she was bringing down on herself. Hermione was not, even though she was perfectly capable of standing on her own, every truly alone anymore. Wherever she went, she carried her Master and the entire pack with her. It gave the concept of privacy an entirely new meaning to Harry.

“Mmmfph,” Hermione murmured, snuggling into Harry more tightly, causing Harry to chitter and paw at her nose with his paws.

“Oh… good morning, Harry,” she greeted sleepily.

It was almost evening, but Harry wasn’t even going to go there. Snape had gone off to teach his classes without her, allowing her the time to rest. Minerva had come and gone, checking to make sure Hermione was okay as well multiple times, but had there been anything truly wrong, Harry knew Snape would be flying through the door like the Hogwarts Express at full velocity, and it may or may not be at the same time as one very protective simurgh portkeyed into the Lair.

Winky had come with a morning and afternoon meal tray, but both had gone into the stomachs of Hermione’s tenders rather than her. As it was, Harry had already eaten the pile of digestive biscuits as he sat cuddled in Hermione’s sleepy embrace, and gotten a pile of crumbs all over Hermione’s robes and hair. Hopefully, she would be too sleepy to notice. A raccoon could hope. Even a freakish one that sported a nice rack of antlers and wings.

Hermione stretched slowly, yawning widely with a soft eagle squeak. Attempting to wake herself again, she managed to at least sit up, sending a rain of biscuit crumbs down to the floor. She gazed blearily at Harry. “Harry, you completed your meditations,” she praised him sleepily. “Wonderful!”

Harry was convinced that the pack song had actually accelerated his learning curve. Between the full moon sessions keeping Moony company and being in the song to warn Remus during the combat in the Great Hall, he had already had a booster shot of reasons to focus. Hermione being compromised was just one more significant reason to focused in a hurry. Ironically, he hadn’t been focusing at all when the change occurred in front of Snape’s quarters.

Hermione, either still too sleepy to notice he wasn’t exactly a normal specimen of raccoon traits or completely impervious to surprise, scratched Harry behind the ears and soothed his wings as though it were the most natural thing to do in the world.

Harry cooed his approval as she did so.

“Why am I so tired?” Hermione groaned, falling over to her side on the sleeping cushion once more, taking Harry down to her side with her. “I feel like I’m being dragged through molten saltwater taffy.”

Harry drooled a little at the mention of food. Ron would be so proud.

Harry’s tail poofed out as he remembered Ron. Ron was going to wonder what had happened to Harry. He hadn’t even told him where he was going, and the last time he’d seen him was during DADA class. Snape had “held him after class” for some sort of crime against Dark Arts he had said with the same voice one would use to address sludge from the bottom of one’s shoe. Harry had made himself look appropriately indignant as Draco had thrown multiple sneering comments at him to keep the status as quo as possible.

Ron probably thought Harry was still serving some sort of grand punishment that Snape was most likely taking great pleasure in. If he knew the truth, he’d probably fly off the handle and go into convulsions on the spot. Harry felt bad keeping things from Ron, but it was because they were so close that he knew there were some things that were safe to tell Ron… and there were things you kept from him for the good of all. And as much as Harry liked Ginny, he knew she had to be moved to the “don’t tell” list, especially after her own chocolate drugged incident, the drunken Hogsmeade incident, and the most recent drugging of Hermione incident.

Harry slapped his muzzle with his paw, looking like Snape pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a miracle that Molly hadn’t gotten wind of the latest drama and sent her youngest child an incriminating red, angry, and seething howler… not that he ever expected to see a happy, singing, and utterly pleasant howler, but he had to admit the mental image of such a thing amused him.

There was a rustling outside the room, and Harry’s ears perked immediately. Snape entered the room with an expression that did not match his scent. His expression on the outside seemed indifferent, but his scent was riddled with concern.

Severus knelt down on the cushion and pulled Hermione into his lap. Harry tumbled out of Hermione’s arms and he sat down on his haunches and looked up at Snape curiously. Snape pulled a small vial out of his robes and shook it. He popped the cork with one finger and sniffed it automatically before he brought it to Hermione’s lips.

“Drink, my daughter,” he whispered softly. It was a command and a plea, said so gently that had Harry heard such a tone in Snape a year previously, he would have thought himself mad.

Hermione stirred drowsily, but did as her Master commanded. Her eyes fluttered and she snuggled into his warmth and zone of safety.

“Can I lure you out of your cocoon of sleepiness, my daughter?” Severus asked softly, amusement in his voice. His concern seemed lessened now that she was snuggled into him. The contact was all he needed to confirm that she was not suffering from ill side effects.

“Mmmph,” Hermione replied into his robes.

Severus touched her head and smirked.

“Aleksander is making marinated flank steak with chilaquiles,” Severus said softly.

Ears practically perked up out of Hermione’s hair and she sat up a bit straighter. There was still a bit of grogginess about her, but she looked genuinely interested. Harry wasn’t even sure what chilaquiles were, but they sounded tasty, and if he had learned anything in the past year, it was that Aleksander could just look at food ingredients and turn them into the ambrosia of the Gods.

Severus chuckled. “Come. Get a move on before you pull me into your drowsy sphere of sleepiness.”

Hermione grunted and stood up, pulling Harry up with her and tucking him under her arm like a sack full of ingredients.

Harry squirmed a little, chittering.

Somehow, Severus was on his feet and out the door before Hermione, but Hermione walked out of the Lair with a shuffle, lured by the prospect of tasty food. Harry wasn’t arguing.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry wasn’t sure how he managed to miss the fact he had wings, but he was going to blame it on the stress of the last week of drama. Between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts… it was more than one raccoon could take.

He had a feeling that it had something to do with being slightly different from what he was after taking the potion each month. Being a raccoon he was quite intimate with… Antlers and wings, however, were new.

After getting stuck on multiple things with his newly acquired pronged adornments on his head, he was slowly getting used to adjusting for larger spaces than he though he needed in order to squeeze through areas. About twelve random cans of preserves, eight curtains, five stools, and six cardboard boxes later, he was almost certain he knew how to get across a room without getting tangled up. Maybe. Possibly. Okay, with a little help from whoever passed by and untangled him.

It was, strangely enough, Little Vik that taught Harry how to navigate with use of his wings. The little hippogriff spread his wings, waiting for Harry to imitate, and then guided him around the Aerie, seeming to know exactly how much space Harry needed to navigate an area without getting his prongs stuck or wings clipped. How the little creature was seemingly more together in the head than most people he knew, amazed him greatly. He had to wonder if some benevolent deity had touched the little creature during his making, gifting the hippogriff true life—a gift to Hermione as one of their faithful, who despite her persecution, remained true to her magic.

Little Vik had his wings out and was flipping them up and down and forward and backward for Harry to follow, and at first Harry felt utterly silly, but as he gained a better sense of where his wings were in motion and at rest, he began to have a little more faith in the little creature.

As it was, the classroom at this particular moment was on a distant hill that was covered with quite a large helping of heavy packing snow. Harry was fluttering around from snowdrift to snowdrift with Vik as Hermione and the Durmstrang were building an impressive igloo around Severus, who was sitting in the snow atop his heavy robes, reading a book as though it were the most natural thing to be doing while people were building a snow fort around him.

Winky, who had brought out a tray of hot cocoa and a little sitting table, was dressed in a Slytherin scarf and an Gryffindor coloured vest that she must have made with the various cloth and yarns Hermione and the Pack had left her to work with. She even had some adorable looking snow boots on, which just added to the quaintness factor.

SPLAT!

Heavy snow pelted into Harry, and he fell antlers over wings into the snow bank, toppling from his perch on top of the drift.

Harry chittered in indignation, but it only served to single him out again.

SPLAT!splat!SPLLLLAT!

Multiple snowballs slammed into Harry, and he frantically dug himself out of the drift, poking his masked face out of the snow cover and glared out towards the igloo, his green eyes filled with suspicion.

Suddenly, jaws clamped around Harry’s antlers, and he found himself being carried off in a giant simurgh’s jaws. Viktor was apparently in the mood to play coon-ball keep away, and he bounded over the drifts, carrying Harry in his jaws.

Harry made indignant noises in protest, flapping his wings and kicking out with his legs, but the simurgh held him tightly in his jaws as he romped across the snow field.

There was a blur of deep sienna as Hermione slammed into Viktor with an eagle cry of mischief, and she snatched Harry up and took off over the snow field, giving off a playful eagle scream of catch-me-if-you-can!

Viktor roared and flew off after her, tackling her in mid flight, and she lost her grip on Harry.

Harry spread his wings and enjoyed a blissful few seconds of flying freedom before a fiery bird slammed into him, his talons curving around Harry’s body as he carried him off in another direction.

Two other bird balls slammed into Aleksander, causing him to loosen his grip, and Harry was free again! He darted away, using his lessons from Little Vik to dodge claws that were chasing him.

And suddenly, an arm went around him, and drew him to their body. Draco, leaning over on his broom, snatched Harry to him like a ball in Quidditch, and dove down towards the igloo, dismounting in a fluid movement, and ducking into the finished snow fort.

Cries of congratulations filled the igloo as everyone filtered in to share in the hot cocoa, and dizzy Harry was feeling like he’d had too much of Sirius’ odd liquor from his cabinet. He was pretty sure there were at least four Potion Masters of Hogwarts and sixteen some Durmstrang filling the snow structure.

Hermione and Viktor came in last, their warmth radiated throughout the shelter the moment they arrive. Hermione immediately snuggled into Severus’ back, wedging her eagle head under his arm. She practically knocked the book out of his hands, but he caught it as he lifted a curious eyebrow and lay his hand over her head, stroking her feathers. Viktor sprawled by the fire in the middle of the sitting area, allowing his brothers to use him as a backrest as they sipped their cocoa.

Draco was already coiled around Hermione’s feathered neck, absorbing her radiated heat with the gratitude only a displaced Inland Taipan could accomplish.

Harry clambered over Hermione’s large front legs and snuggled between them, flipping his wings out to curl around her legs as he smashed his muzzle into her warm fur.

There was a rustling noise outside, and Harry’s ears perked immediately. Strangely, however, none of the other seemed to give signs of wariness. Viktor yawned toothily, letting out a long sigh, and Hermione snuggled her head against Severus' lap, enjoying his fingers rubbing her feathered crown. Even Cerberus, who was usually the most paranoid of strange noises and scents, was rolled over on his side, dozing.

“Remus,” he heard a voice say. “I know you’re a werewolf. You don’t have to drag me out in the wilderness to tell me. I accept you for who you are.”

“That’s not…” Remus replied. “Well not all of what I needed to tell you, Tonks.”

“You have something more to tell me?” Nymphadora’s voice contained disbelief.

“You know… how you said you really wished you could meet my family?” Remus said awkwardly, his voice was getting louder as the pair of them were approaching.

There was a series of footfalls in the snow, and Padfoot came bounding into the shelter. His body was covered in fresh snowfall. He shook off at the entrance, yawned toothily and padded over to where Viktor was laying. Padfoot snuffled Viktor, gently licking under his chin in greeting and then flopped down beside him. Two out of four bird balls talon-walked over to his side and cuddled up to him.

“Of course, Remus,” Tonks said. “But I know your parents passed a long time ago. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s not that,” Remus said. “I need you to meet my family. My real family.”

“Your… real family?” Tonks was confused, the sound was in her voice. “You were adopted?”

Remus snorted in amusement. “You could say that.”

“Wait… are you saying that you found a pack? A werewolf pack? Is that what all the secrecy is about?” Tonks asked.

“Yes… and no,” Remus answered. “And no.”

Their footsteps stopped nearby. “What?”

There was a sound that could have been Remus smacking his palm into his face. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you, Remus,” Tonks said with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for a year now.”

“What I’m showing you today wasn’t about me not trusting you,” Remus said softly. “It was that until now you didn’t have a firm grasp on Occlumency. I could trust you, but I couldn’t trust that someone couldn’t just waltz into your mind and take something you didn’t give them permission to see.”

“Remus, there is nothing I’ve seen that every Auror hasn’t had to see,” Tonks said. “You don’t need Occlumency to protect Auror secrets.”

“No,” Remus said sadly. “But you do need it for what I’m going to show you. I think you’ll understand… it’s more than just me being a werewolf. It’s more than me trusting you.”

“After this build up, I’m thinking you’re going to show me the true location of the Hope Diamond, Remus,” Tonks said.

“So much more than the Hope Diamond, love,” Remus said truthfully.

“I should hope so,” Tonks said. “Because if I find out the Hope Diamond is sitting out in an igloo right outside Hogsmeade, I’m pretty sure the world has gone mad.”

“Oh it’s most definitely mad,” Remus replied.

Harry was distinctly reminded of Hermione’s insistence that he learn his Occlumency and his stubborn and wilful refusal to take it seriously, yet, Tonks was willing to do what Remus asked of her without question, despite her misgivings. It said a lot about her character, and made Harry a little ashamed of himself. Needless to say, if Hermione asked him to smear his hair with raspberry jam and sing Spanish Ladies to counter a curse, he would probably do it. Lesson learned.

“In you go, love,” Remus said softly.

There was rustling as Tonks struggled to get into the tunnel and wind block that marked the entrance to the igloo.

She entered with her head facing down, which was slightly comical considering a giant simurgh and and equally large gryphon had walked in without an issue only an hour previously.

She sat up, shuffling over as Remus entered in after her. She turned around to look around in the flickering firelight, and her eyes were on stalks as she looked around the shelter. She had been ready for a pack of werewolves, perhaps… or humans she didn’t know, even… but nothing had prepared her to guess the sight before her. Her hair flared bright neon pink as her features reflected her turbulent emotional state.

“R..r…remus?” Tonks whispered.

Lupin touched her hand and squeezed it. “This is my Family, Tonks. They are my Pack. My Home.”

Harry felt like the least threatening of the entire group, even with Snape as a human. His fur wasn’t on fire, composed of mist, or anything overly threatening, so he clambered over Hermione’s front legs and shambled over to Tonks, placing his paws on her knee. He stared into her face with his vivid green eyes framed in his soot black face mask and cooed.

“Harry?” Tonks asked, her hand reached tentatively to touch his back, her fingers lightly stroked his fur and feathers.

Harry chittered at her, his hand-like paws curled around her fingers, petting her hand.

A silver tabby padded into the shelter, half covered in snow. She shook herself off, and all the snow slid off her like an avalanche, leaving her snow free and dry. She meowed casually, padding into the gathering and leapt into Severus' lap, which was already occupied, at least partially, by Hermione’s huge eagle head.

Minerva leaned up next to Hermione, head-bumping into Hermione’s head and purring loudly. Hermione moved her head slightly, giving the acting Headmistress room to share Severus’ crowded lap space.

Severus lifted an eyebrow, and moved his arms with his book and laid them both across Hermione’s back, where he continued to read nonchalantly.

Minerva snuggled into Hermione as she made herself at home in Severus’ lap.

Tonks, recognising Minerva, attempted to put human faces to the creatures before her, and failed.

“Tonks,” Remus said softly. “You’ve met Harry, but this… is Hermione.”

Hermione opened one eye to peer at Tonks, then closed it again as Severus’ rubbing of her feathered crest caused her to lose focus.

“This is Viktor,” Remus said, extending his hand to the lounging simurgh. “Aleksander, Lazar, Valko, Petya… and well you know Minerva, Padfoot, and Severus.”

Draco slithered up to coil himself around Harry, placing his head between the raccoon’s ears at peer at Tonks, his tongue flicking out to taste the air.

Remus reached out to rub under Draco’s chin with his finger. “And this handsome sod is Draco.”

If Inland Taipans could preen themselves, Draco would have managed it. He did achieve looking quite proud of himself, which was impressive for a snake.

Tonk’s hair fluctuated between a multitude of colours as her face seemed to shift between pale and even more pale right before she just sank to the ground in a dead faint.

Remus looked mortified.

Severus lifted a brow as he passed Remus a cup of cocoa. “That went well,” he said dryly. “Cocoa?”

 


	85. Free At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Moony come to terms at last.

“He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began.” -Grimm

**Chapter 85: Friend of Foe? Who Knows?**

Hermione curled her lip with disdain, looking ever so much like her Master. She stood tall with her arms crossed against her chest, her pale fingers curled around outer robe and pulled it inward. The DADA class was practising shielding, and very few of them were getting it right. Hermione narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t that they weren’t shielding. It was that they were shielding…pathetically. Ginny’s bat-boogey hex would have torn most of the shields apart.

Hermione kept reminding herself that the class was full of fifth years, not sixth, and they weren’t expected to shield on a moments notice, only produce a shield and keep it up. They didn’t have to produce it on the run, while diving under furniture, or while being shot at by rampaging Death Eaters.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, being shot at by rampaging Death Eaters would put things in better perspective

The Dark Arts was that darker shade of grey that had the potential to be most horrific. While common hexes and “harmless” curses were technically Dark Arts as well, a jelly-leg curse was not going to land you in Azkaban. Unforgiveables, however, would.

Hermione knew the line between true Dark Arts and that of the “Light” were far more blurry than the common public view. Blood magic, for example, was considered a Dark Art, yet it was blood magic that had saved Draco from insanity, saved their lives against Death Eaters before the battle at the Ministry of Magic, and bound her to Master Desmondon. None of said magic were done to bring torture upon another… but it was definitely not something Hermione would want to see in the hands of a beginning first year student.

The bond between her and her Master was probably forged with the most ancient of magicks. It was magic so old that it didn’t even have a colour associated with it, but there was no doubt that the power of it left imprints upon their every souls. Did that make it Dark Arts, or was the entire classification system a crutch to lump spells in the same way one would differentiate between “pure” and “mud” bloods?

As she stood watching the students attempt to shield against the stinging hex, she saw a few of the students cringing so hard to brace themselves against the stinging hex that their concentration on the shield was failing because of it.

“Miss Andrews,” Hermione addressed politely. “If you concentrate on the shield instead of the spell you are blocking, the shield will hold better.”

Andrews, better known as Victoria by her classmates, gave Hermione a frustrated look. “It hurts.”

Hermione’s eyes were fathomless as she looked at Victoria, her Master’s impassiveness worn upon her own face with the same unemotional regard. Yet, a touch of sympathy stirred within Hermione, not so much that she attempted to deny having any, but that sympathy was not her ally in battle. Sympathy is what made your wand hesitate, your mind seize, and your focus crumble. However, these students were only fifth years, attempting to learn enough to pass their O.W.L.s, not necessarily take on the Dark Lord’s minions after dinner. In an ideal world, no fifth year would be asked to do such things either.

Hermione gently held Victoria’s hand, placing Victoria’s fingers around her wand in a slightly different way. She tapped her back so she straightened her posture. She used her fingers to guide Victoria’s wrist movements. She said the words for the incantation clearly in her ear. She guided Victoria to focus not on the pain she almost conjured in a self-fulfilling prophecy, but feel of the spell. To recognise the energy was to feel how much energy and effort into the counter. One had to know what was coming as intimately as the spell used to counter it. To do otherwise was to open one’s self to failure.

When Victoria took in a deep breath, Hermione stepped away, allowing her to focus. The shield went up. Her partner flung the stinging hex, and for the first time, it bounced off the shield with an audible zing. She turned to Hermione with a grin on her face.

Hermione’s lips quirked upward and she nodded to her. “Good job, Miss Andrews,” she said softly. “Again.”

Victoria smiled and turned back, adjusting her posture and going at it once more. One by one, her partner assaulted her with hexes, and one by one Victoria deflected them. Each time became easier, and the witch’s confidence grew.

Hermione tilted her head slightly. The shields they were teaching the students were standard deflection shields. There was, technically, nothing wrong with them. They would serve in practice or in true combat. Yet, such shields were wasteful. Severus and the Durmstrang had taught her a different sort of shield that absorbed the magic being thrown and made it add to the energy pool of the shield bearer. In a long combat, such things were the difference between exhaustion and survival. In order for such things to work, however, the defender had to be one with the energy that was being flung at them. There lied the rub. One could not hug the Light spells alone and survive. One had to be attuned to both. The Durmstrang knew this. Severus knew this. Yet, for whatever reason, the common knowledge of the Wizarding world, whether Dark or Light seemed determined to classify magic in two separate categories. Even Voldemort and his followers hugged their “Dark” magic close to them, as if using it inoculated them from the opposing side.

Magic, however, was not so easy a thing to corral and slap a label to. Magic was grey… capable of wonders as vast as creation in the hands of the unselfish and as evil as a weapon in the hands of a murderer.

“It seems as though the majority of you believe that you must see what is coming to avoid it,” Severus’ voice was low and had a rumble of weariness. “This is not so. It is not about seeing what is coming. It is about feeling it. In battle, you will be tested while the wind is howling around you. The sounds of yells may be everywhere. The heads and necks may be cleaved from the hydra’s body, but where one falls, two more spring up in their place. When guarding against the Dark Arts, you must be… aware… even if you eyes are closed, or you will find yourself fighting the hydra instead of your enemy, and you will lose… horribly.”

Murmurs of disbelief filtered across the classroom. He couldn’t possibly mean them to fight blind. It was asking the impossible.

“When you take your O.W.L.s for Defence,” Severus said, “there will be no sounds of combat. Your friends will not be fighting beside you for their lives. Your lives will still be yours whether you do well or not, but think on this as you do your studies. Do you think when you face someone in a darkened alley somewhere, wand out and ready to put your lessons you squeaked by on to use… that your adversary will care that you didn’t quite study enough to shield properly? This is basic defence. This is… fundamentally crucial. In the end it is not me that shall be giving you your final grade. It is life.”

Silence came over the classroom. Snape, intimidating in his own right, had always been a strict teacher. When it came down to it, however, his stern and unforgiving teaching method stemmed from the need to keep his students alive. DADA, it could be argued was crucial because it protected against the living enemy, but Potions, Snape would argue, was learning not to be sabotaged by one’s self. I potion brewed incorrectly, especially at N.E.W.T. level, could be fatal.

“Apprentice,” Snape snapped.

“Yes, Master,” Hermione replied immediately.

“Come here,” he said.

Hermione came up to him, her face was impassive, but her mind was curious. Tendrils of her curiosity poked at Severus’ mental presence, causing him to mentally chuckle.

:Curiosity of a cat, my daughter,: he whispered. :You’ve been spending too much time with Minerva. I will find you trying to stuff yourself into a box that is too small for your body in the middle of sunbeam.:

Hermione scoffed mentally. :Curiosity of a gryphon, Father,: she grunted at him. :A hundred times worse.:

:Indeed,: he replied. :I’ll find you trying to stuff yourself into one of my cauldrons like an overgrown cat.: He pulled out a blindfold from his robes and gestured for her to turn around. Hermione obeyed without question. Severus gently tied the blindfold around her eyes and guided her to the end of the duelling platform.

“Mr. Sowersby,” Severus grunted. “You are up.”

“Up, Sir?” John Sowerby gulped.

“You haven’t forgotten how to cast your array of hexes you cast upon Mr. Ellington last week when you thought he stole your homework, have you?” Snape asked with no change in expression.

Sowersby gulped. “No, Sir.”

“Good,” Snape said. “Cast them at her.”

“But…” he protested. “She’s blind.”

“Yes?” Snape replied.

Muttering went across the classroom.

Hermione mentally smirked. Sensing spells had been drilled into her and Draco since she was twelve. They had used each other as practice victims for as long as these particular students had been in school. The skill was not perfect. There were times when she could not sense the spells coming at her in time to know its exact nature. In such cases, she had to default to the standard shield, and this, the day’s lesson in the fifth year DADA class seemed all the more appropriate.

:Ready?: Severus asked, amusement in his mind voice.

:Yes, my Master,: Hermione replied, a smile in her own mind voice.

There was a flicker or warmth through the bond, and then Snape’s voice snapped, “Begin.”

Sowersby was hesitating, but Hermione felt the surge of energy as he was gathering his thoughts to actually throw a spell at her. She knew he was having a moral crisis flinging a spell at someone who was blind, but perhaps this exercise would prove to the class that blind didn’t mean helpless.

She heard him yell a spell, and she threw up a shield immediately, feeling it zing off to the side. Another. And Another. The spells were coming with a bit more power now. He was starting to realise that he wasn’t putting as much effort into it as he should.

He started to throw different hexes, but each time he gave himself away—not by the feel of his spell as much as his very loud execution of said spells. Spells didn’t care if you whispered or yelled verbal components, but they did rely on intent. Sowersby was apparently good on the volume and clarity of his cast, she gave him that, but his intent was getting a little lost along the way.

Frustration was rolling off of Sowersby now. She could smell it. All the scents she would enjoy smelling if he were a foe in true combat. Frustration made you sloppy. Anger, too, made one prone to stupid mistakes. Yet these were the things that, if she wanted any of these students to be capable of watching her back in real combat, to be gone. The truth, however, was few people in the Wizarding world were ready for life-threatening combat. Function in normal activities, yes. Fight against Death Eaters? No so much… She had to admit, however, that normal people wouldn’t be expected to do such a thing. That was why there were Aurors, after all. Aurors… and people in the Pack and the Order. Merlin knew it wasn’t the Ministry bureaucracy that was a great source of protection from the looming threat of Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters.

Hermione blocked another sloppy cast. One could argue, she admitted, that the situation with the Ministry was getting better, one person like Umbridge incapacitated at a time.

“Enough,” Severus’ voice broke the inner musings in her head. “That will do, Mr. Sowersby.”

There was a brush of warmth in her mind as Severus was at her side once more, his hands working to remove the blindfold from her eyes. The brightness of the room in comparison to the darkness of the blindfold was almost too much so, her eyes closed slightly to filter the light away from her agitated retinas.

“As you can see,” Severus continued his lecture, “You will not always have to see danger to know it is there and respond defensively to it. One may say this is an obvious sort of lesson, however, how can any of you expect to learn such methods when your basic shields crumble or waver here within the classroom?”

Mutterings went throughout the classroom.

“Now,” Severus said. “Pair off with someone you have not been with this week and start again.”

The class broke out into groups under Snape’s watchful eye.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione yawn-squeaked and rolled over on her back as Harry scratched her belly. She purred loudly, the vibration shaking her chest. Harry grinned at her, and she peered at him with her warm brown eyes as her tail slapped into his face.

“Feeling better?” Harry asked with a grin.

Hermione chirped, making a series of eagle chuckles, wriggling under Harry’s ministrations as he clawed his hands to scratch under her legs and ruffle her fur. She let out a rumble of approval.

There was a rustle and vortex of wind as Viktor landed with his brothers and Draco leapt off of Viktor’s back with a smoothness of practice that caused Harry a pang of envy.

“You make flying dismounts look so easy, Coils,” Harry said with a pout.

“Psh,” Draco responded. “You actually have wings. I have to hitchhike.”

Hermione pounced on Draco in a sudden ambush, tumbling her Slytherin brother into the grass and leaves, and Draco flailed as the gryphon made a big show of mauling him to “death,” which ended with Hermione laying on top of him, a strangely raptor smile upon her hooked beak.

Draco huffed and squirmed, and then transformed. Weaving his coils around Hermione’s neck and burrowing into her feathers.

Harry admitted to a stab of envy that Draco was able to be worn like an inconspicuous accessory. It always seemed like he had something that just made him stand out in a crowd. The Boy-Who-Lived… having a scar on his forehead proclaiming his unwelcome past… hell he couldn’t even be a proper raccoon without adding something to it to make him stand out. Draco was, even as a displaced Australian snake, able to blend in. Perhaps, though, that was a reflection of their true natures. Draco was, despite his status in Wizarding society, highly underestimated in his lethal potential. Harry was, as much as he hated to admit it, a conspicuous surviver.

Hermione yawned and squeaked as Viktor worked her over, grooming her with long strokes of his tongue and nibbles from his teeth. Draco tightened his coils around Hermione’s neck as Viktor’s grooming caught him up, and Harry laughed as the snake ended up being “cleaned” along with Hermione.

Draco’s head stuck out of Hermione’s thick neck feathers and he fanglessly struck at Viktor’s nose.

The simurgh whufted at Draco, giving him one finally slurp before wrestling Hermione down. They tumbled in a flurry of claws, talons, wings, and fur. Hermione’s talons wrapped around Harry’s waist and pulled him in, and Harry yelped, pulled into the tumble against his will.

“You look like you have your hands full, Harry,” Remus chuckled as he walked up the trail, Sirius shambling up beside him with his familiar lope that was always with him regardless of form.

“Hello, Harry,” Sirius greeted, extending his hand to his ruffled godson.

Harry’s hand curled around Sirius,’ and Sirius pulled him up. Sirius ruffled his hair with his hand. Harry ducked his head and flushed, grinning.

“Tonight’s the night, eh Moony?” Sirius said, elbowing the werewolf with his arm. “Nervous?”

Remus smiled nervously in reply.

“Aw, Moony,” Sirius chided. “Even if it doesn’t work, old friend, we’ll still have the potion. It’s going to be fine.”

Remus forced a smile. “You’ll have to excuse over thirty some years of doubt.”

“Not a chance, Moony,” Sirius grinned at him. “This is your dream, and I’m not letting you wiggle out of it.”

“Perchance to dream, Padfoot,” Remus chuckled.

“It’s not just your dream, anymore, Moony,” Sirius said. “Not anymore.”

“Yes,” Severus grunted as he materialised on the trail with a flutter of dark wings. “Because we shall all be there to enjoy it when you have pups tearing at your ears and chomping at your tail.”

Remus turned a rather royal shade of maroon. “Lycanthropy is not transmitted to the child,” he protested.

“Neither is sneering, but that doesn’t exactly stop you from transmitting it to Hermione and Draco,” Sirius ribbed the Dark wizard.

Severus lifted a brow. Draco poked his head out of Hermione’s neck feathers and stared at Sirius. Hermione eyed Sirius, a strangely familiar expression on her eagle face. Sirius found himself being stared down by three identical expressions from both a human, a gryphon, and a snake.

Sirius waved his hands. “I yield,” he coughed. “Mercy.”

Aleksander smirked and elbowed Harry, causing the messy-haired wizard to grin.

“So,” Remus said with deep inhale. He looked up into the clouded sky. “I guess this is it.”

Valko placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “You will be fine, drugar,” the earthen bird animagus said softly, his tone stable and comforting.

Remus smiled weakly. “Now or never. Are you sure…”

“The wards are up, Remus,” Severus said. “And we are all here regardless of what happens.”

Lupin began to unbutton his shirt as he went to hide his modesty behind a shrub.

“Nothing we haven’t already seen, Moony,” Sirius chuckled.

“Pretending I didn’t hear you, Padfoot,” Lupin snapped as he hid himself behind the bush. “I don’t want to be reminded about who has seen my bits when I revert.”

“Unfortunately only all of us, Lupin,” Severus quipped.

“Not listening!” Lupin replied, rustling as he undressed. “Totally not fair that I lose my clothing when I turn and all of you just shift with your clothing.”

“You too can be an unregistered illegal animagus,” Sirius huffed. “Just take the express course like Harry.”

Harry snickered.

“I’d feel a lot better if you were all… not looking human right now!” Remus protested.

A collective sigh went throughout the gathered Pack and shortly after all of the animagi had taken their not so human forms.

Hermione and Viktor lay lazily together on the ground as Harry clambered over Hermione’s legs to sprawl on her back. Sirius opened his jaws and engulfed Harry’s ears with his slobbery muzzle, causing Harry to chitter in protest and stuff his paw up Padfoot’s nose. The dog animagus snorted, pulling back, but his tail was wagging in his amusement.

As the moon peaked out from behind the clouds, there was a thumping noise coming from behind the brush.

Viktor’s ears moved on a swivel, but the simurgh was utterly lazy. He gazed around with half-lidded eyes, taking more care to snuffle into Hermione’s feathers than focus on Moony’s shift in the shrubs.

Moony peaked his head out from behind the foliage, his large wolf form shook as he put all his fur in place. He let a low and soft whine as he yawned, exposing his teeth, but not in threat. Moony whined softly, tail wagging as he approached his sprawling pack members.

He approached Viktor with his belly somewhat to the ground and lapped under Viktor’s chin like a puppy supplicant. Viktor’s head rose above his, his lips pulled back from his teeth.

Moony whined, rolling over onto his back, showing his belly and exposing his throat, tail wagging in appeasement.

Viktor bared his teeth and grasped Moony by the throat, holding the potion for a few seconds while Moony’s tail beat on the ground without fail. Viktor lazily engulfed Moony’s muzzle with his, teeth still bared in display, but the movement was casual and ritualised.

Hermione stood, and Moony whined again, pawing under her beak and licking under chin as well. Hermione engulfed Moony’s muzzle with her beak, holding his entire face in her beak for a moment as he tucked his tail between his legs and whined. Hermione released his muzzle and laid her head against his back. Moony beat his tail against the ground frantically.

Severus, perched nearby on a boulder, hooted softly. Both Hermione and Viktor approached the dark eagle owl. Hermione rubbed her cheek against the large owl, and Viktor, in turn, kept his posture lower, moving his head down and to the side to lick Severus in deference under the beak. The size difference between the giant simurgh submitting to the eagle owl was never so evident.

Severus preened Viktor lightly over the muzzle with his beak and then his daughter on her feathered crown. Hermione chirped softly, returning the gesture, her over-sized beak ever so gently preening her father’s feathers into place after Viktor slurped them out of alignment.

Moony, if anything, even more playful now that he was outside instead of in the Lair, rolled around on his back and thoroughly dusted himself, then play-bowed to Sirius, tail raised and wagging in invitation.

Sirius bowed back to him and they tore off into the underbrush, chasing each other.

Severus hooted, seemingly unimpressed.

As the lupine and canine came bounding back to the Pack, Sirius and Moonie pounced on the unaware Harry, causing the winged raccoon to squeal in surprise as he was pounced on, rolled over, grabbed by the antlers, trotted around in circles in a game of keep away, and then flopped on by both his godfather and the transformed Moonie. Both took turns slurping the coon mercilessly as they drooled on him.

Hermione chirped her amusement, and Viktor whufted softly. All four bird balls let out a chain of melodious notes as if to say everything was normal. Severus turned his head away in an owlish version of tolerance.

After about an hour of loafing about lazily in the moonlight, Hermione stood up and shook herself off. She walked out some distance away and stood silently, staring up at the moonlight. She took in a deep breath, turned, and stood up in her human form.

The night itself seemed to hold its breath, and all eyes were on Moony.

“Are you in there, Remus?” Hermione asked almost sadly. It all boiled down to the chance that they had been lulled by the Pack bond that Remus would be safe now that he had a Pack and a Home. Hermione was ready to shift back into her gryphon form the moment there was aggression towards her, and she knew that her Pack was ready to rise up and drive Moony away if he couldn’t control himself… but all of them were silently praying that in finding his Pack that he had found a different sort of cure: peace. Peace that would protect him from losing his mind and protect his loved ones from his past inability to control himself around humans.

Moonie whined, his eyes set on Hermione as though she were the only thing that mattered. He was focused on her intently, his golden eyes staring into her. His tail beat against the ground as he crawled, belly to the dirt, towards her.

Hermione stood still, her brown eyes shifted into the still and fathomless black of her father’s. And somewhere, perhaps, a gift from Master Desmondon, she pulled on the eerie stillness of the grave that made her able to stand without any sense of movement.

Sirius and Viktor walked beside Moonie as he belly crawled towards her. He whined softly as he approached, keeping himself low to the ground, and when he was within feet of her, he rolled onto his back, exposing his belly and his neck.

Hermione engaged her armour, but knelt and slowly stroked Moony’s fur.

His tongue darted out and licked her her chin once, twice, and a third time. Draco coiled tightly around her neck, having unintentionally put himself in range of the werewolf’s submissive licking. Hermione rubbed his fur gently with her hands, and the werewolf showed none of the hostility that had once maddened him when he had lost control at the Shrieking Shack so many years previous.

“You’ve done it, Remus,” Hermione said softly, tracks of tears running down her cheek. “You’re free.”

The werewolf worked hard to lick her tears from her face, and Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

Moony yipped as she squeezed the air out of him, but he whined and licked her face and ears and hair after she released him. His tail was wagging furiously.

“I knew you could do it, mate,” Sirius said warmly, sitting against one of the nearby trees. “No more potions for you.”

Moony slunk over to where Sirius was and practically crawled into the dog animagus’ lap. He ploughed into him with his large wolf head and slammed his head into Sirius multiple times, hard enough to cause Sirius to oof audibly. Sirius wrapped his arms around his oldest living friend and tears were pouring down his cheeks.

“You old wolf,” he breathed heavily into Remus’ fur in a half-sob that carried the weight of countless nights keeping his half-crazed friend company as children. “You crazy, old, wonderful sodding wolf,” he clutched Moonie around the neck and buried his face into his fur.

Remus whined softly, his tongue working overtime to slurp his old friend’s tears away.

Moony made an odd sound in his throat. It started as a whine, but it became a burbling noise. All the animagi were in their animal forms, unsure what was coming over Moony, but he tilted his head back and let out a long howl that reverberated not of loneliness, but of homecoming and joyous reunion.

Sirius tilted back his canine head and howled. Viktor tilted back his head and bayed lowly. Hermione let out a roar that seemed trapped between a eagle’s scream and a lion’s roar. Harry chittered joyfully. The four birds let loose a long chain of melodious notes, and under it all, Severus gave low rumbling hoots. And Draco, while silent, exuded a sense of well-being that drifted through the Pack song and bound them all together, sharing their joy with the distance Minerva that was holed up in Hogwarts with Cerberus at her feet.

_“I am Remus the wolf,_

_And my song is the beacon of home._

_May all that hear it,_

_Never be truly alone.”_

_“I am Harry the Ringtail,_

_And my song is the story predicted,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Find that Family is built on the kindred.”_

_“I am Minerva the cat,_

_And my song is whisper of knowledge,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Find truth and pay it homage._

_“I am Draco the serpent,_

_And my song is the ballad of the wariest,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Have the wisdom not to be biased._

_“I am Aleksander of fire,_

_And my song is the heat of flames,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Never be corrupted by fame._

_“I am Lazar of water,_

_And my song is that of adaption,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Forever know the hand of compassion.”_

_“I am Valko of earth,_

_And my song is that of peace,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Find that the war in their hearts will cease.”_

_“I am Petya of air,_

_And my song is that of breath,_

_May all that hear it,_

_Be freed from those that oppress.”_

_I am Sirius the dog,_

_And my song is that of the loyal._

_May all that hear it,_

_Remember always to be watchful._

_“I am Viktor the simurgh,_

_And my song is that of the defender._

_May all that hear it,_

_Find shelter in me without measure.”_

_“I am Hermione the gryphon,_

_And my song is one of retribution._

_May all that hear it,_

_Be free from harmful delusions.”_

_“I am Severus the owl,_

_And my song is the pain of the past._

_May all that hear it,_

_Find forgiveness to stand steadfast .”_

There was a shift in the wind, and a warm of familiar minds joined within their Pack song, coming from the depths of the Dark Forest.

_“We are the centaurs of the Dark woods,_

_Whose trails we have hunted moons untold._

_We stand with the lives our our allies,_

_That our young may stand tall and bold.”_

The pack sent out their song in reply.

_“We are the Pack of Black Lake,_

_Whose surrounding Dark Forest we protect._

_May all that threaten our allies and loved ones,_

_Never go unchecked.”_

“Remus?” Tonk’s soft voice broke the resonating song. She stood just outside the wards they had erected in case Moony flipped his gourd and went feral on them.

She stood in the clearing with trepidation, putting on a brave face in the midst of the werewolf she loved.

Remus ceased howling his song to the winds and peered at Tonks. His posture stiffened, and he seemed to stare at his human mate as if looking through her. All at once, he leapt out from next to Sirius and tore across the clearing, coming to a halt next to the wards.

The werewolf skidding to a halt and flopped on the ground, head down, and tail wagging at Tonks. His golden eyes shined with excitement, but not rage. He let out a plaintive whine, and rolled over onto his back, exposing his belly in invitation.

Tonks tentatively reached through the wards and rubbed the werewolf’s belly, causing Remus’ eyes to close and his tail to beat against the ground in approval. He squirmed and licked her hand.

Tonk’s hair cycled through a few shades of blue and green as she stroked Remus on the belly, marvelling at his soft fur. She didn’t even realise that the entire pack had surrounded her to watch the exchange ever so closely, ready to leap in at a moment’s notice.

“Remus,” she whispered, unable to take it any longer. She threw her arms around the werewolf’s neck and for the second time that evening, Moony yelped as he had the air squeezed out of his lungs.

Moony beat his tail against the ground happily, not minding in the slightest.

“I love you,” she cried into his fur, tears streaming down her eyes as she hugged the old werewolf mercilessly.

Moony let loose a joyous howl and the Pack joined in with him, carrying their happiness across Black Lake and the surrounding forest.

 

 

 


	86. Outside Influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus comes up with an idea to keep Hermione from Obliviating her parents.  
> Hermione and Ginny have a confrontation.

“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”

-Grimm

**Chapter 86: Outside Influence**

“Granger!” Fred and George chimed together, lassoing the bushy-haired witch with their combined arms and drawing her into a hug.

“Oof!” Hermione grunted, caught in their embrace like a fly in a spider web. “Mmrmmfmffff!” she murmured, pressing her nose to Fred and George’s combined shoulders. They were not pack, per se, but they were familiar, and their scents were comforting. They knew how to approach her without getting their hair hexed off, how to smother her with their scent to relax her enough to accept their touch. It wasn’t as though she expected them to hurt her, but she wasn’t exactly easy to approach now that she wasn’t making a point to pretend to be less observant and more highly emotional. She was now, at least in public, very much like her Master, as it was expected, and many of the student body considered her an extension of the Potion Master gone DADA instructor in any and all things.

The twins grasped her in an arm lock and dragged her into the Durmstrang courtyard, which was, oddly at that moment, empty of students. She lifted a brow at the twins with curiosity. “Yes?” she murmured.

Fred and George looked at her with a mixture of concern and good natured amicableness. “How you feeling, Granger?” George asked. The twins fell against a tree together and pulled Hermione down with them.

Hermione snuffled into Fred’s shoulder, allowing herself to relax a little, her now normal mask of indifference disappearing slowly. “I’m doing all right,” Hermione replied after a while. “I’ve been a little out of sorts since that wonderful drama in the Great Hall week ago. I’m finally able to keep my eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time. Harry had been glued to me for a week now. Ron probably wonders what happened to his best mate.”

Fred rubbed her shoulders. “Don’t be worrying about Ron. He’s been… occupied.”

Hermione shrank down to the ground a little lower, shuddering. “Could have gone my whole life…”

George snickered. “Us too, sis. And we’ve lived with him all his life.”

Hermione smirked.

“Look,” Fred said seriously. “We’re really sorry about what happened. We took the candies off the shelf until we can find a formulae that cannot be abused by accident. If we can’t find one, we’ll just keep them off the shelf indefinitely.”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t remember testing anything from the store that was candy,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Why don’t I remember?” Hermione attempted to remember the last batch of items she had gone through for the Wheeze’s store and came up empty.

“Please don’t be angry with us, sis,” the twins said together.

“It was from our new stress relief line in the store,” Fred said. “Went along with the mood colour-changing nail polish and laughing licorice.”

Hermione was frowning. “I don’t remember you giving me anything,” she said after a while.

Fred and George exchanged glances. “You mean she didn’t…”

Hermione’s head snapped up suddenly. :Master?:

Severus’ mental presence was bored. Paper grading, she guessed. :Hrm?:

:I was drugged this last week,: she said, not forming it as a question.

:Yes, daughter,: he replied honestly.

:Life threatening?:

:Only in the context of when it was used,: came his reply.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

:Ginny,: she said. It wasn’t a question.

:Yes,: he replied.

Anger came first. Betrayal was a close second. Hermione clutched her hands together tightly, digging her nails into her palms. Then, like a switch had been thrown, there was no emotion at all. Her eyes went dark, and her face was cast in stone.

Suddenly all the concerned Pack tending while she had been sleeping her days away made more sense. Harry’s gluing himself to her every moment he had as if he were channelling his inner Cerberus fit into place. While she had no doubt at all that he was feeling the pull to be closer to his Pack now that the bond was cemented by his animagus form, a part of her had been too sleepy and groggy to realise the why of it.

Her own best friend had slipped her something… and she had been too trusting of her friend to do what she normally did and suspect everything. Hermione’s mind went to the tasty little homemade chocolates that Ginny had pulled out from a box in her trunk. They had looked exactly like the ones she normally had owled in from her mother, Molly. They had even smelled divine, without the chemical taint she could normally scent upon doctored foods. Had it really been undetectable? Or had she been lazy in her scenting thanks to her trust in her friend.

Hermione’s lip curled in a very Snape snarl of abhorrence.

“Hermione,” Fred and George said softly, and Hermione jolted. They had called her by her first name for once. The shock of that shook her out of her brooding. Her now black eyes flicked from Fred and George.

“Please don’t be angry with us,” they pleaded.

“We gave Snape the formulae the moment we realised what had happened,” George said.

Hermione’s expression was blank. “Did you know?”

“We didn’t,” George replied. “We didn’t know until Ginny tried to throw herself into the battle to get to you, and Snape practically threw her back behind the barricade. When she told us, we couldn’t believe it. You seemed fine, tired maybe, but you went through the battle without hesitation. It wasn’t until you passed out at Grimmauld that we knew she did what she had said.”

“We gave him the original formulae and the antidote formulae,” Fred said.

“We didn’t make them to be taken more than one at a time. We even had a warning in the box that they had to be treated like Dreamless Sleep potion,” George said.

“Occasionally,” Fred said, holding his head in his hands. “We should have known that people don’t follow directions.”

“We never did,” George said sombrely.

Hermione’s face was grim. “You may have created them,” she said, “but she is the one that used them… on her best friend.” She stood up, pulling herself up straight. She seemed taller as she stood there, her face impassive, and her eyes dark. Her body was still as a statue as her robes flickered in the wind.

“Hermione,” the twins said, looking at her with concern. “Please don’t judge her too harshly. She hasn’t been the same since you had to move out of the dormitories.”

Hermione’s lips pursed into flat line. “If not me. Who?”

Fred and George exchanged looks as Hermione left the courtyard. She let out a low whistle, and Cerberus busted out of the nearby bush where he had been unknowingly hidden the entire time. He trotted next to Hermione’s flank, following her loyally.

Fred let out a soft sigh as he rubbed his temples. “I never thought we’d have to keep our store products from our own family.”

George nudged Fred. “Maybe we should make our products ‘easy enough that a Weasley couldn’t mess it up,’” George said.

Fred let out his breath in a snort. “How long do you do you think it will take for mum to find out about this?”

George looks sombrely into the fire fountain in the centre of the courtyard. “More importantly… how long do you think it will take mum to find out our brother never learned his contraceptive charms?”

Fred stared at George with wide eyes. “You’ve got to be…”

“Not yet, brother,” George placated. “But with our known genetics…”

Fred stared upward, hoping to find reassurance in the clouds. “Our mother wants her grandchildren sooner rather than later, but I don’t think she was thinking the youngest son would do it before the rest of us.”

Fred and George let out identical breaths of air. “Do we have drama written in big red letters over our family name?” Fred asked.

“I think so, brother,” George answered. “Right next to blood traitor, Fred.”

“Think Ginny is going to get out of this?”

“Not on your life, brother,” George said. “It’s not a matter of being attacked by a few enchanted teacups this time, and we didn’t get away with our prank either.”

Fred slumped. “True.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione sat behind about three stacks of grade-able parchments and scrolls, and Vik was happily snuggled in one pile of graded items as he was so prone to do. Cerberus lay beside the desk, chewing on what was probably the largest rawhide bone to grace the halls of Hogwarts.

Severus was sitting at the desk opposing her, going through the ones she had graded to double check the papers and exams, making his own markings as he saw fit.

“You missed the position of the body in regards to the attacker in this paper,” Severus said calmly, marking the paper in front of him.

“I did?” Hermione held out her hand to him, and he placed the parchment into it.

Hermione’s eyes flicked across it. “So I did,” she said, frowning. “My apologies, Master.” She handed the paper back.

“Distracted?” Severus asked.

“Somewhat,” Hermione admitted, scribbling over a paper in front of her.

“How were your lessons with Tonks and Moody?” Severus asked.

“Moody was cranky, as usual, but the lessons went well,” Hermione said. “Tonks had me walking the streets of London blending in with a bunch of interesting characters.”

“Interesting… characters?” Severus asked.

“People with some wild hair in equally wild colours,” Hermione said with a smirk.

Severus shook his head. “Okay then,” he said, scribbling over a parchment.

Little Vik came out of his nest near Severus and started to bite at his quill playfully.

Severus raised a brow at the little hippogriff, and slowly bopped the creature over the head with the soft end of the quill. Vik snorted and pranced around his hands and flopped over his wrist.

Hermione giggled and smiled at the antics. “Did you know that Tonks is a bit of a klutz? She can blend in a crowd like nobody’s business, but trip over planters, rugs, dogs, and her own feet sometimes.”

Severus flicked his eyes to look at Hermione, eyebrow raising. “That’s comforting.”

Hermione’s shoulders shook a little. “I’m spoilt with you as a role model. You can stand, walk, glide, float, move, or whatever like your feet aren’t even touching the ground. You make standing still an art form.”

“Hnn,” Severus answered. “You can blame years with Master Desmondon for that life skill.”

Hermione grinned at him. “Very useful skill, I’d venture to say.”

Severus touched his nose in reply, head cast down to continue his marking despite his “helpful” hippogriff assistant. “Tonks must be ecstatic about being able to be with Lupin during his moon nights,” he said.

“Oh you have no idea, my Master,” Hermione answered. “She took an extra half hour just to get emotionally stable enough to keep her hair from shifting colours every time she thought of something different.”

Severus snorted. “Being a metamorphmagus must make social stressing situations… interesting.”

Hermione scoffed at the paper in front of her, scribbling something angrily on it. “She really wants to learn the animagus meditations, now that she’s no longer fainting at the very sight of us. I think… being able to learn something with Remus is something special they can do together. They… need it, I think.”

Severus lifted a brow. “Oh?”

It would be the first thing they could do together as a goal,” Hermione said. “Team building, perhaps. I do wonder what Tonk’s inner animal would be, though. She might have a hard time with the meditation being born able to change her appearance and all.”

Severus frowned. “Possible,” he admitted. “When you are born with a strong talent in something, learning to do it consciously can be… frustrating.”

“What do you think her form would be, Master?” Hermione asked in good humour.

Severus paused his scribbling over the papers. His eyes flicked upward in thought. “A puffskein… with bright pink fur.”

Hermione made a soft choking sound as if she’d just caught her tea in her windpipe. She coughed, slamming her fist into her ribs.

Amusement trickled through the bond between them.

Viktor’s mental curiosity touched them both as his mind enquired as to her health status.

Hermione sent him a mental picture of Tonks and then one of a very pink fluffy puffskein with hot pink fur.

Viktor’s mental eyebrow was arched very highly, much to the agreement of Severus. He sent a rush of warmth and withdrew from the conscious communication, sending an image of a crowded Quidditch stadium.

“At least you didn’t knock him off his broom with that, my Apprentice,” Severus chuckled. “How would he even explain that?”

Hermione looked apologetic and somewhat appalled. She shook her head. “I spoke with Alastor and Kingsley about… relocating my parents.”

Severus’ quill hand froze over his papers and he furrowed his brows.

“After that threat Arick Ashwinder gave us in the Great Hall, I’ve been talking to him about evacuating my parents to somewhere… out of the way,” Hermione confessed. “They have no care of the Wizarding world save that they know I’m in it. They don’t know anything, but…”

“Death Eaters would hardly care,” Severus finished.

Hermione sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

Severus was silent for a while. “They would be defenceless.”

Hermione nodded to him.

Severus closed his eyes a moment. “What did Moody have to say about it?”

“He thinks it is a wise idea,” Hermione said. “Since I am… more high profile now than I used to be. They are working on getting the proper documentation done, identities crafted, backgrounds, and the appropriate Muggle paperwork as well through the Department of Muggle Relations.”

“Where do they think will be far enough from the war?” Severus asked.

Hermione was silent a while. “Australia.”

A pin dropping would have been deafening in the silence after her answer.

“That must be… complicated to arrange,” Severus said at last.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “The only snag that is arising, however, is whether my parents can even know they are being moved.”

Severus took a breath and let it out slowly. “Memory charms would be a dire measure.”

“It would…keep them safe,” Hermione said. “But there is the chance that if they are that far away, that they can treat it like the Muggle witness protection program.”

Severus tapped the top of his writing quill to his head. “Perhaps we can brew a potion that will dull their memories for a certain time instead. It will have the same effect as a charm, but eventually wear off on its own. This would allow you to inform your parents of what was going to happen ahead of time, so when the potion wears off, they are not just sitting in Australia wondering why they are there. We could overlay some sort of cover identity after they take it to fit whatever the Ministry deigns appropriate.”

Hermione’s expression was more hopeful. “That would be wonderful, Master.”

Severus nodded. “We shall work on it then. After the moon cycle, however, as I recall the making of it must start on the waxing crescent moon and end upon the waning. I will need you and Draco to fetch me some fresh and rare ingredients for me. You can… include Potter if you wish, provided he can keep his antlers out of trouble.”

Hermione smirked and nodded. “Just let me know what you want us to fetch, my Master, and it will be done.”

Severus nodded silently and finished the parchment he was grading. “I will owl Kingsley with our plan. Unless there is something better he can recommend, we will proceed when he sends word.”

“It all depends on… what my parents wish in the end,” Hermione said sadly. “Free will… and that horrible thing called ethical quandary.”

Severus grunted. “You think they will try to stay involved in your life despite the risks?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not for that reason,” she replied stoically. “They’ve worked very hard for their practice together. Clients. Connections. Influence. In the Muggle world… they are the ones that are high profile.”

Severus furrowed his brows. “So, they would have a lot to lose in their version of high society.”

“Yes,” Hermione replied softly. “They are happiest in the social circles. Delicate financial deals. Dentistry circles. Medical conferences.”

“Very Slytherin,” Severus said with a chuckle.

“Without the magical element, yes,” Hermione agreed.

“Irony in you being the Muggle sort of born-in society Slytherin, yet here, on this side, you are are not,” Severus observed.

“I never quite fit in with my parent’s social circles,” Hermione admitted. “Hence, I think, why my relationship with them has always been almost purely clinical.”

“Their loss,” Severus said softly. There was true warmth in his tone.

Hermione smiled at him before resuming her scribbling of the paper in front of her. “They have their happiness. I would prefer they got to keep it on terms they are agreeable with, rather than uproot them my sake alone. The daughter in name who spends more time in world they cannot see or understand.”

Hermione paused and stared through him a moment. “Sometimes… I wish I was just Hermione Snape. Daughter and Apprentice to the family trade. Loyal to my Father’s beliefs. Dutiful to his master craft… it would be so much more simple.”

Severus froze mid-scribble. His dark eyes looked to her. “You already are and more, Hermione,” he said softly, his voice so soft that it could have been the rustle of wind against the leaves. “You need not bear my name for it to be so.”

“I would bear it proudly, Father,” she said softly. Warmth flowed in the bond between them.

Severus allowed the warmth from his own mind to join with hers in silent communion, each content with the gift the other brought in each other. “Even if it made you Slytherin?” Severus ribbed her good-naturedly.

Hermione snorted. “Even… if it meant sharing my brother and father’s notorious House.”

Severus’ amusement rippled through their link. “Truly, you must mean it then.”

“Let there be no doubt,” Hermione said with a sniff. Hermione slumped against the desk as the last of the papers she had graded was finished. Her head pressed against the desk with a tired thump. She yawned involuntarily. Her endurance was, sadly, still compromised.

Severus finished up the papers as his daughter napped against the desk, irritation set about his shoulders. He didn’t find her sleeping on the desk irritating as much as the conditions of why her endurance was still on the road to recovery. Poppy had run her through quite a few scans, but she could only confirm that the fatigue would have to work itself out naturally over time. Not so easy a task when every day was draining on reserves she did not have. Her suppressed anger over the situation could only fuel her for so long.

Vik poked his head out of the nest of scrolls and parchments and chirped softly. He trotted over to Hermione and rubbed up against her face. After a moment, he trotted over to Severus, took up his sleeve in his beak, and tugged on it. The little hippogriff dropped his sleeve and chirped at him in an attempt to beseech him to take action.

Severus’ face softened and he gathered the scrolls and parchments into order placing them in the graded crate. He gathered up the concerned hippogriff and placed him on his shoulder. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come, back to the Lair with you, my daughter.”

Hermione murmured groggily as she stood up and looked blearily at him.

The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched upward, and he ushered her out with a gentle touch of his hand on the small of her back.

Cerberus perked up from his oral demolition of his rawhide bone and followed, his middle head clasping the bone in his muzzle and carrying it with him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“What is it you want, Miss Weasley?” Hermione asked from the DADA classroom’s duelling floor. The student in front of her flinched as Hermione’s voice transformed into something far more akin to her Master’s. It created an instant visceral reaction in the majority his students with few non-Slytherin exceptions.

Ginny stood frozen to the spot, mouth working silently to explain herself, but failing.

Hermione guided the student’s hand into the right position, tapping his posture, and guiding his wand into the proper movement. “Keep your posture like so, Mr. Addams. See the movement in your mind as you do it. Loosen your wrist just so.”

Addams attempted to do as she said, straightening his back and repeating the hand movement.

“Now, release the verbal incantation,” Hermione said.

“Fumos!” Addams said loudly and clearly.

Dark grey smoke billowed out of his wand and surrounded them, concealing them from sight.

Hermione’s voice grunted. “Good work, Mr. Addams. Now all you have to do is practice.”

The smoke dissipated after a time, revealing Hermione standing still as the younger wizard beamed. “Thank you, Apprentice Granger.”

“You are welcome. Mr. Addams,” Hermione replied, waving her hand in dismissal. “Have a good evening.”

Addams nodded with a smile and grabbed his books, hurrying out the door of the classroom.

Hermione spun on her heels, her hand extended as she swept the room clean of target dummies and duelling platforms. When she turned back to Ginny, her pale face was stony, and her eyes were dark and fathomless.

“Hermione,” Ginny began. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re… sorry,” Hermione repeated. “Sorry.”

Ginny scratched the back of her head. “I really am.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What, exactly, are you sorry for?”

“W…wha?” Ginny asked.

“I said ‘what, exactly are you sorry for?’” Hermione repeated.

Ginny stared at her blankly.

“Sorry for breaking five some years of trust with one act of underhanded drugging?” Hermione said flatly. “Sorry for dulling my senses so I can’t even go a day without taking a nap? Sorry for risking my life in front of countless Death Eaters who by some streak of luck didn’t manage to kill me? Sorry for putting my parents in danger by making me a high profile target taking out Death Eaters in the middle of our Great Hall? Tell me, Ms. Weasley. What, exactly are you sorry for?”

“Yes!” Ginny spouted. “I… I miss you, Hermione.”

Hermione’s lip curled up derisively. “You… miss… me,” she droned lowly. “So… you slipped me drugged chocolates because asking me to stay over would be too hard? Did you English fail you? Was I speaking in tongues?”

“N..no!” Ginny exclaimed, wincing. “You’ve just been so scarce. Ever since you moved in with Snape, I haven’t had any time with you. We used to talk every day. We used to fall asleep telling each other stories. We shared dreams. We’d talk about anything… everything. And now, it’s like I don’t know you at all! I wasn’t thinking that it would hurt you. I just wanted you to tired enough to spend the night instead of running back to Snape.”

Hermione stared coldly at her once trusted friend. Part of her knew that Ginny knew her better than any of her female friends, but the other part of her knew that no one, save the Pack, knew her true face. That included Ginny, unfortunately. Perhaps, Hermione speculated, Ginny would view Hermione’s keeping her true face concealed for the better part of every year they’d known each other as her own personal betrayal of a different kind.

Hermione growled to herself. Ginny was incapable of holding onto a juicy secret. The only one she had managed to keep had been the location of the Dumbledore’s Army meetings. If it had anything to do with Hermione or her relationships, such as the Durmstrang brothers, Ginny was a pair of loose lips waiting to chatter on about everything.

There was something sadly desperate about Ginny’s actions. It was as if she were clawing for purchase on a slippery cliff of her own psyche. The ground there was unstable. The view was concealed.

Hermione stared into Ginny until the witch turned away from her, unable to hold her gaze. “Tell me, Miss Weasley,” she said after a time. “What do you know about Apprenticeships?”

Ginny winced every time Hermione refused to use her first name. Hermione had no desire to encourage the casual friendship that had once bloomed between them. Her interest in Ginny was terribly detached in order to keep it from becoming simply terrible, wrathful, and akin to the inferno. Whether she held herself partly to blame or not for not nurturing the relationship between herself and Ginny was beside the point. The moment Ginny had taken it upon herself to drug her, the trust that Hermione had freely given her friend and the tolerance towards her quirks went out the window.

“They are formal arrangements between a Master and one person they agree to teach their trade for a a long period of years until they are released to make their own way in it,” Ginny said.

Hermione tilted her head, lip curling. Fred and George seemed to have a better idea of what being in an Apprenticeship meant. How was it, that Ginny did not? “You do realise that it is more than just… a job, yes?”

Ginny shook her head. “It is a job.”

Hermione stood perfectly still. “It is a pact,” Hermione said in a low voice. “More binding than marriage.”

“What?” Ginny looked horrified.

“It is a meeting of magic, Miss Weasley,” Hermione answered her. “A touch of souls. While the bond is there, I can have no other Master. While I live, he can have no other Apprentice. He can have helpers, followers, students… but no other Apprentices. I am his alone, and he is my only Master.”

Ginny looked confused. To be fair, Hermione realised, there were formal magical Apprenticeships and there were normal apprenticeships. Most people treated apprenticeships like indentured servitude for a number of years before breaking off to do whatever they learned. A formal Apprenticeship, however, was rare due to the magical commitment. In taking Hermione as his formal Apprentice, Severus had bound himself to her and she to him. It had been rare enough to make headlines in the Prophet. It had been powerful enough to keep Hermione safe from Voldemort’s minions lest they endanger his treasured chess piece. Dumbledore had been in the right of it to ask Severus to take her as his Apprentice. What the old goat hadn’t known is that Severus and Hermione had been joined together since her second year… long before Albus had asked. “Did you know that if something happened to me that it would quite possibly take my Master with me? Or… leave him a pale shadow of himself? That if I had died in that fight due to my inability to stand up and defend myself, that Hogwarts could have lost a student and a professor?”

Ginny paled significantly and shook her head in negative.

Hermione sniffed critically. “Perhaps you should speak with those prank loving brothers of yours. They seem to know the lore well enough.”

Ginny seemed conflicted. “I wanted to tell you, Hermione.”

“Because you were caught, or because you truly wished to?” Hermione asked acerbically. “Harry has barely left my side in the last week or so. When it is not him, it was my Master. When not them, it has been Professor McGonagall, Viktor, or Professor Lupin. Tell me, Ms. Weasley… if you truly cared for me, where were you when I was recovering? Where in all the days since that battle in the Great Hall have you been with not even an owl’s apology sent?”

“It’s not like you were in the hospital wing where I could just come and visit you!” Ginny protested.

Hermione straightened to her full height, seeming taller than her normal stature. “Knocking on a door is, I admit, terribly difficult,” she answered coldly. “Leaving a message with my Master must be so hard, seeing how difficult he is to spot in a crowd.”

Ginny turned her head away, shamed.

Hurried footsteps broke up the conversation as a student ran into the classroom. “Professor Sn.…oh! Apprentice Granger,” the student huffed. “Cindy hurt herself tripping down the stairwell. Would you help us?”

“Of course, Miss Foxglove,” Hermione answered immediately. “Lead on.”

In a swirl of her robes, Hermione was gone with the student, leaving Ginny alone with her private shame.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione murmured softly as Viktor swept her up on his return from his latest game. His broad smile did more to heal her inner turmoil than her craving for chocolate. She had to admit that her desire for that particular sweet was lessened after her experience, even though she knew her own stash of the candy was hardly liable to be spiked with anything.

Viktor’s presence, much like Severus’, was warm and familiar, and his sea scent was mixed with the herbal soap from his latest shower, and Hermione wasted no time basking in it upon his return.

Viktor, who seemed just as relieved to be home as she was to see him, said the game had gone well. Hermione wasn’t much for Quidditch, at least in comparison to her peers who practically kept scorecards, but she had a certain appreciation for Viktor’s team doing well. When it came to the games at Hogwarts, she was always conflicted on who to cheer for… Slytherin or Gryffindor. Often she settled for Gryffindor in public and Slytherin in more subtle ways.

They picnicked on the hillside overlooking Hagrid’s hut, watching the antics of a certain billy goat and his small harem of nannies. Their picnic spot was just out of reach of one disgruntled Whomping Willow, allowing them a bit of protected privacy. Most people avoided the territory of the grumpy tree at all costs, and Hermione wasn’t sure if that made them brave, practical, or just plain mental to relax so close to a temperamental tree.

As Viktor’s arm went around her waist and pulled her close, Hermione decided she really didn’t care what anyone thought. She let out a soft approving purr, snuggling into him with pleasure.

As usual, he wasn’t the most loquacious of people, but what he didn’t say in words and trivial conversation, he gave back in his presence and comfort. He made what he did say count, and there was a certain appeal to that when surrounded in student conversations that usually ranged from trivial to downright cruel.

Viktor lounged with her, lazily allowing himself to enjoy her company without being as alert as he normally would. Hogwarts was one of the most well warded places to have a picnic. Death Eater children aside, anyway, the chances of being attacked inside Hogwarts was, at least, less likely.

“Missed you,” Viktor murmured in Bulgarian into her neck and hair.

“Missed you too, my handsome freak of nature,” she replied with warmth.

“Mmm,” he replied. “Think I’m handsome?”

“Psh,” Hermione grunted. “You know I do… and thousands of your fans do too, I’m sure.”

He gnawed on her neck gently. “Don’t care about fans. Care about what you think.”

“I care about you,” Hermione said softly, leaning into him as he gently nibbled on the flesh of her neck.

He used his hands to knead her muscles of her shoulders and neck, pressing her thumbs into her pressure points and turning her, quite deftly, into a puddle of goo.

Hermione chirped her approval, eyes drifting shut as his warmth surrounded her. He enveloped her, humming into her ear, the sound rumbled through her, serving only to reinforce her lack of ability to protest, move, or consider resistance, not that she wished to.

“You were too tense,” Viktor said, snuggling into her.

Hermione murmured with half-closed lids. Bulgarian sounded so terribly exotic, despite the fact she could speak it quite passably herself now. Viktor, however, made it sound like molten sensuality. He also knew exactly how it affected her. The bond had made it worse… or better, depending on how you looked at it. It was like she was tuned to him so much more than with her attention span.

Viktor chuckled as she pulled his arms around her like a Muggle safety belt and wrapped him around herself like a cloak. He never complained when his witch desired his comfort. One might as well complain that was raining after a drought.

“Do you think I’m too intolerant?” Hermione asked randomly. “Unforgiving?”

Viktor’s brows rose into his hairline. “Ruthlessly practical, usually,” he answered honestly. “However… known to have moments of illogical compassion.”

Hermione laughed, nudging him in the ribs her elbow. She sighed. “I feel so angry with Ginny. So angry I can barely see her without wanting to… hunt something. Yet, part of me keeps whining in the back of my head that I haven’t exactly let her get to know me… really know me. Isn’t that, too, its own betrayal?”

Viktor rubbed her shoulders. “No excuse for drugging trusting friend. Knowing their true face or not. Rules and boundaries exist in all friendships. Much like borders of society. Boundaries with her… more tight. She is not able to keep secrets. Not so bad with mindless chatter. Not so good with war secrets. You do what have to. There is big difference between withholding information to preserve life and drugging someone. She of all people should know better. Knowing her history… vith drugged food and drink.”

Hermione relaxed into him and then nodded. “I never suspected her, Viktor. Not once. I’m a horrible agent.”

Viktor snuffled her hair. “You trusted friend. Way trust should be with friend. Even if only ideal. Ve all have… veaknesses. But if we go through life… trusting no one, our lives would be… so much less fulfilling, da?”

Hermione smiled. “Sometimes you have to turn yourself into cat to find someone you can trust,” she said, recalling her first real interaction with Severus in her second year.

Viktor rumbled against her skin. “Glad you did. Chain of events in my favour.”

Hermione turned her head to gaze up at him.

Viktor’s warmth shone through his black eyes as he lowered his mouth to hers.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Fred and George plopped down beside Harry as he sat staring into the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“You look out of sorts, Harry,” George said.

“Care to tell us why?” Fred asked.

Harry jolted from his thoughts, looking at the twins with a surprised look upon his face. “Oh, sorry. Just thinking.”

“That can be dangerous,” George said. “Care to tell us?”

Harry blushed about the ears. “I was trying to get Ron to play some chess with me, and he… had other plans again.”

Fred and George looked uncomfortable. “Things keep going like that, and he’s going to make people think he’s serious about the girl.”

Harry shook his head. “I was going to go hang out with Hermione after I finished my homework, but now it’s after curfew, so she’ll be doing rounds with Snape.”

“Eugh,” Fred said. “Even we don’t try to sneak around when those two are patrolling together. They make Filch and Mrs. Norris look like toddlers.”

Harry laughed, “I suppose you’re right.” The truth was, Harry had been trying to spend some time with Ron and Ginny, but Ron had been preoccupied with with Lavender, and Ginny… Ginny seemed even more unstable.

“Fred, George,” Harry said after a while. “Do you think Ginny is a little off lately?”

“If you mean has she stopped mumbling to herself and pacing in the dormitories at night… we might say we are still concerned,” Fred said softly.

Harry frowned. “Have you not told anyone? Perhaps taken her to Pomfrey?”

“She’s been to Pomfrey, Harry,” George said. “Remember? After that incident with the drugged butterbeer. No offence to Madam Pomfrey… but I don’t think what’s going on is her speciality.”

Harry frowned. “How so?”

Fred ruffled his own hair, turning to look into the flames of the fire. “She’s been clingy ever since her first year after…”

“After the diary possessed her,” Harry said.

“Maybe… it wasn’t the diary that possessed her,” George said. “Maybe it was Riddle himself.”

Harry paled. “I destroyed the diary. The death curse was lifted…”

George and Fred looked concerned. “The curse yes… but maybe he left something behind, Harry. Something that haunts her.”

George looked at Harry with concern. “She’s always been a bit off since then, Harry. When Hermione was here all the time, Ginny was more stable. But now, all she has is Lavender and Parvati and a gaggle of giggling girls with less sense and more… petty concerns than Hermione ever had.”

Harry stared into the fire. “You’re saying that whatever is going on in her head has been there since her first year, but since Hermione was there to counter it, it wasn’t as obvious until now?”

George nodded. “She’s more stable when she’s back at the Burrow too,” he said. “Surrounded by family.”

Fred sighed. “It’s not like Ginny to be so addle brained as to think drugging her best friend is acceptable, Harry. We’re worried about her too.”

“We’re worried that when we sit our N.E.W.T.s and officially graduate that she’ll become even more unstable,” George said.

“Especially with our hormonally distracted little brother being useless as companionship right now,” Fred said.

George looked at Harry. “What if You-Know-Who’s way in to what has been going on stopped being you when you stopped having those nightmares. What if it switched to her?”

Harry shook his head. “But she doesn’t know anything.”

Fred nodded. “Which is probably very frustrating to Who-Know-Who.”

Harry kept shaking his head, not wanting to admit that somehow Voldemort had found a possible spy within Hogwarts out of his own, albeit involuntary, friends.

At least… he hoped it was involuntary. Ginny wasn’t exactly the type to sympathise with Death Eaters… was she? Harry slapped himself on the forehead.

“Hermione said you were practising Occlumency,” Harry said suddenly. “How is it going?”

“We’re doing alright according to Lazar,” Fred said.

“Valko says we need more focus to keep it up without concentrating. Somewhat counter-intuitive if you ask me. Concentrating on something harder to make it so you don’t have to concentrate…” George confessed.

Harry smirked. “But you have been practising?”

“Of course,” The twins said. “Every day. Hermione said there were things we could teach us, but not until we had our minds closed. We intend to keep up our side of it.”

Harry nodded. “Do my a favour, okay?”

“Sure, what do you need?” they asked.

“When you talk to Ginny… keep your Occlumency up,” Harry said with a sombre expression. “Even if you’re at home. Even if you’re… are Grimmauld Place. It’s important.”

“Okay…” they responded, looking confused.

“I’ll… let you know when I know more,” Harry said, nervous.

“You’ll tell us if you need our help, won’t you, Harry?” George asked, concerned.

“I will,” Harry promised. “I’ll let you know, okay?” He stood up and made his way to the door.

“Where you going, Harry?” George asked. “It’s past curfew. You’ll be caught by Snape!”

Harry gave them a half smile. “Exactly.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“It is… possible,” Severus said in a low rumble.

Severus’ main quarters had turned into a meeting room. Remus, Sirius, Minerva, and the Aerie residents were all gathered in a circle in his quarters in a strangely Round Table reminiscent scene. The only thing missing were longswords laid across the top pointing towards the centre.

Minerva had transfigured the table itself, and at each seat there was an inlaid outline of the animal of each animagus. She had done it with a subtlety that blended each animal too look like they were simple joined in some sort of zodiac formation, so by the casual glance it would look like a simple round table with interlocked designs. However, when the person whose effigy sat at their seat, the inlay would come to life and dance across the table with the others.

Sirius had actually joked, calling their clandestine meetings the Order of the Black Owl after Severus instead of the default Order of the Phoenix, and strangely, no one protested.

“Severus,” Minerva asked. “Do you think he used his connection from his old soul-self in the diary to connect with her? Perhaps it remained… even after the journal was destroyed?”

“Perhaps,” Remus said, “Because You-Know-Who didn’t truly…pass on, the bond with her remained?”

“Metaphysical bonds hard to destroy once rooted,” Viktor said. “Possible… been inside her too long to let go of her.”

“Possible, also,” Aleksander said with narrowed eyes, “dat witch wanted power at one point. Invited him in.”

Harry shook his head. “She’s not like that.”

“Not saying she condone murder,” Aleksander said. “Saying at one point… could have been weak. Weak in mind. Weak in heart. Weak for approval. Only take one weakness to invite such things into heart. Den it grow… Start small, grow bigger.”

Lazar nodded. “You say it took her first year. Dat make her young… vulnerable. Easy to manipulate.”

“Much of vat we are made into… starts dat age,” Petya said. “We can… become leaders or minions… dhose that blaze the path or wait for others to go ahead.”

“Is very possible,” Viktor said, “dat she never sympathise vith Dark Lord. However… one must also consider dat with one possibility. Other also likely.”

Sirius drummed his fingers on the table. “Do we have a way to get her to Saint Mungo’s for a… health… checkup? To see a specialist?”

Minerva let out her breath. “After that entire Chamber of Secrets business, Albus was very vague and did not wish to speak of what happened. He awarded points to Potter and Weasley for their bravery as heroes, but did not tell the staff anything other than to assuage our fears about the Chamber itself. Since we were not all of the details, we had no reason to press for Ginny Weasley to visit anyone other than Madam Pomfrey for a standard checkup.”

“Dumbledore never told you Ginny was possessed?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“No, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said. “He did not. It is his nature to keep his secrets close and his agents oblivious of each other and his own designs.”

Harry furrowed his brows, thinking differently of the elderly wizard.

Draco traced the serpent on the table with his finger as he nursed his drink with his other hand. “Could an excuse me made? I’m sure… we could think of some reason to have her put under the diagnostic wands at Mungos?”

“We could… have a grand duel in the hallways, Coils,” Harry said with a smirk. “Make sure she’s around to defend someone’s honour. Take her out with a badly directed hex?”

Minerva muttered. “I’m not sure I want to condone spell flinging in my corridors just so you can throw a well aimed hex at a fellow student… Perhaps, we can simply inform her parents to agree that she should be given an examination… paid for by Hogwarts for the trouble…”

Severus grunted. “How soon would we be able to transport Ms. Weasley to Mungos if we could get Molly and Arthur to agree to the transport?”

“Immediately, if necessary,” Minerva said.

“What would we tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked, fingers steepled on the table.

Remus slapped his hand down on the table, startling a few of them. “Tell them the truth, or… at least part of it. Tell them that we are concerned that she may be suffering from from unforeseen aftereffects from an altercation that happened in Hogwarts and we… Hogwarts that is, simply wish to confirm that she is not…”

Severus lifted a brow. “I say we go with that idea. However, if the Weasleys do not concede, then we must rehash our plan to have her examined. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the gathered chimed in.

“Fantastic,” Severus said. “Minerva, if you would be so kind as to pave the way with the elder Weasleys, get the appropriate permissions? Mr. Potter… we may require you and Ronald Weasley to go as well, as a cover. Since the both of you were there during the entire Chamber fiasco.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said. “I take it you do not want me to tell Ron the real reason?”

“Best that you not, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said. “I would ask you to look as ‘baffled’ about why you are being asked to goto Mungos for a checkup as you can be.”

“I can help you work on your dragon poker face,” Draco said with a smirk.

Harry snorted. “Thanks, Coils.”

“Sirius,” Minerva said. “If you could come to my office and sign the appropriate permission slip so it looks all official?”

“Of course, Minerva,” Sirius said with a nod. “Anything you need.”

“It is late,” Severus said. “Sleep would be a welcome friend. Shall we conclude?”

Shared nods went down the table.

“Sir?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” Severus asked.

“What if… what if it isn’t him… possessing her?” Harry said with a worried expression.

Severus’ expression was grim. “We’ll deal with that when we get to it, I think, Mr. Potter. But if what you say is true, and she would normally be incapable of such things, then… chances are we will have to deal with how to get the Dark Lord out of her mind rather than the alternative.”

Harry nodded sadly and seemed to accept that answer.

Severus placed his hand down upon the black owl inlay and it flew to the middle of the table, sending all the other effigies fleeing back to their normal places. Each member placed their hand upon their returning animals and they faded back into the table. The table went dark as they rose to leave.

“I’ll escort you to your dormitory,” Hermione said to Harry as people were shuffling off to prepare for bed.

“Hermione?” he said, shuffling his feet like shy teenager.

“Hrm?” Hermione responded, tucking Draco around her neck like a choker.

“Would you mind if I slept in the Lair tonight?” he asked.

Hermione tilted her head to the side with a small smile. “It is not me, dear brother, that you must ask,” she said warmly, amusement in her eyes.

Harry gulped, squared his shoulders, and looked at the man who would always be the Potion Master of Hogwarts regardless of what he taught. He pulled on the ties to the Pack and gathered the Pack Song to him. Slowly, like old gears loosened after years of being mated together, he stepped towards Severus and ducked his head, gently placing his head against Snape’s chest, letting off a soft cooing sound that pulled upon his raccoon self.

Severus stiffened at a first, but after a time, his hand very gently laid over Harry’s head, soothing his mop-like hair. “You may stay tonight, Mr. Potter,” he said softly.

Harry felt a warmth rise within him as he stepped back. “Thank you, Sir,” he said respectfully, following the others who had already retreated into the Lair to sleep.

Tonight was apparently one of the rare nights when the entire Pack was gathered together, and Harry cuddled up between the elemental bird balls and Cerberus as they cuddled between Hermione’s talons and legs. Minerva used Harry’s round body as a springboard to leap up onto Hermione’s back and pad over to snuggle between Hermione’s back and Severus. Lupin and Sirius lay at Viktor’s back, Lupin’s arm curved around Padfoot’s barrel-like chest as he lay on his side to sleep.

Severus grunted sleepily as he extinguished the lights, putting his arm around Hermione’s folded wing and Minerva’s conveniently sized tabby body. Viktor’s wing folded over them, his peacock tail curving around the pile.

As Harry’s eyes drifted closed, one of Hermione’s talons wrapped around his furry body and drew him close herself. He let out a soft sigh of contentment and let the blackness of sleep pull him under.

 


	87. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets ideas. Not all of them are great.  
> Hermione and Ginny have a conversation...again.

“It is said there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man. But where does one begin and the other end?” - Gwen, The Wolfman

Chapter 87: Yellow

Harry pounced on Hermione’s tail, batting at it as it flipped back and forth on the sleeping cushion. Every so often, Padfoot would nip at his ears, and Viktor would snap at his tail, causing Harry to skitter in random directions and clamber over one of the bird balls, using them as a makeshift shield or birdy boulder to perch on.

Harry peered over Hermione’s wing, placing his paws on her marginal coverts and looked over them, his paws stroking her feathers gently.

BatBATbatBAT!

Harry’s tail poofed and he spun around.

Minerva yawned at him lazily, her tail curled as it flicked up and down. Harry slowly approached her and then, quite abruptly, draped over her. The silver tabby sprawled next to Severus, who was still blissfully asleep.

Severus, in his sleep, pulled the silver tabby closer, using her as a pillow, and Minerva’s tail swished back and forth in surprise before she snuggled into him contentedly.

Harry, caught in between Snape’s chest and Minerva, looked around with wide eyes and a bottle brush tail, unsure how to handle his current situation. Being snuggled by Snape was… slightly discombobulating.

The Pack Song, however, refused to tolerate such nonsense, and Harry felt a calmness being close to what was essentially his Pack leader. Everyone deferred to Severus as the leader to their group when it came to orders. They bowed to Viktor as the enforcer along with Hermione, as they never failed to bow to Severus’ will. Minerva was the Beta in many ways. She was the calm and the reason, who rose up to cuff the errant pack members but also nurtured them. The rest of them were happily subordinate. It did not mean they were unintelligent or unable to be independent. Harry felt good allowing himself to trust in someone else’s guidance. It felt wonderful not to have to lead. Leading was hard, demanding, and the stuff of the responsible. Harry wanted to be… normal, not Atlas. The weight of the world was not supposed to rest on a young teenage boy who hadn’t even seen past his second decade of life. It would be nice if he could at least reach a nice twenty number before taking on the weight of the world. Thirty maybe. Maybe it would be better if he was the age of retirement first.

When he thought of all the things that Hermione and Draco had done before they had even turned fourteen, he realised his life had been pretty sheltered in many ways. They had been soldiers while most of Hogwarts lay in their beds being oblivious, and yet, they preferred it that way. He knew they did what they had to do to protect those they cared for. They did it because they could. And now that Harry was properly shielded, he was made privy to the secrets his female best friend could finally tell him.

His thoughts crept back to Ginny, and a frown turned the corners of his muzzle at the thought of her. Harry remembered what it felt like to feel like his best friend was leaving some vital part of the equation out for him. He hadn’t known about the Apprenticeship until the “official” announcement had been made. He had no idea Draco and Hermione had been practically siblings for over three years before he was made privy to that particular tidbit. Hellfire, Hermione was a sodding gryphon, and he hadn’t known that until just this last year… What Ginny would give to be able to see Hermione as a gryphon… if only she could be trusted to to keep that secret… well all their secrets safe.

Suddenly, an idea hit Harry upside the head like a bludger to the head, and it startled himself so thoroughly that he shot straight up into the air, hit the ceiling, and he fluttered down on top of Hermione’s head, dizzily.

Hermione’s dark eyes opened and peered at her brother with both interest and annoyance. Draco popped his head out from Hermione’s neck feathers and fanglessly struck out at Harry, causing the raccoon to yelp and tumble antlers over ringed tail onto the sleeping cushion with a chitter and a flop.

Harry shifted out of his animal form. “Hermione! What if we offered to put Ginny under an unbreakable vow to not reveal our secrets? I mean… after we make sure she’s not under his influence. Would that be enough to protect the Pack and allow her to…you know… be a part of our social group?”

Hermione’s sleepy eyes glared at Harry, the “ear” tufts on her head flicked back and forth like real ears.

“Hermione!” Harry whinged.

Hermione rose up from the sleeping pile to her full height, and she ploughed her head into Harry, knocking him down to the floor. She snapped her beak around his collar, and dragged him with her out of the Lair like she was straddling her prey and slinking off with it into the foliage.

Harry flailed, giving a low moan of resistance as the gryphon who really wanted to sleep in with the rest of her Packmates dragged him off into the next room.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Ahhh!” Harry protested. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Next time I swear I’ll wait until you’re properly awake before—EAGH!”

Hermione had Harry pinned down with her front talons as she rubbed her head against Harry’s body like an overgrown cat on a scratching post. As if to add to the situation, Crookshanks was placing his paws on Harry’s eye sockets, just barely putting any pressure on them, but enough that Harry feared for his corneas.

Crookshanks took Harry’s nose between his teeth, and his rough tongue practically sanded off the upper layer of skin off his nose.

“AGGGH!” Harry moaned.

Hermione clasped Harry by the head briefly and her eagle tongue slurped the side of his face before she let him go.

Harry sputtered as Hermione was staring at him, leaning back in her human form in a transition that happened so fast he literally hadn’t seen it happen.

“You really are a gryphon that happens to be a witch,” Harry said.

“Hnn,” Hermione replied with a yawn. “How so?”

“Remus told me the other day,” Harry said. “That there are animagi that are wizards and witches that take on another form, and then those that are what they are… truly.”

Hermione sniffed. “It seems kind of silly to be an animagus who isn’t what they are, at least to me.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean… of the registered animagi, most people simple use the shape as a tool. They don’t live it. I think we’re kind of… strange… in that our group truly seems to be their form. Haven’t you noticed that?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose and rubbed it. “I suppose I never gave it much thought. I’m so used to us being in our animal forms. It seems odd not to switch between them fluidly.”

“Seems like we are all rewriting the norms of animagi,” Harry said. “What we have here is… something wondrous. Powerful. And it is right under the noses of those who have no idea. Just as I had no idea… until recently.”

Hermione tilted her head to the side, smiling slightly. She turned her head away as something flickered across her face. Some shadow of a normally hidden pain lingered there.

“Hermione, what is it?” Harry asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

Hermione’s seemed to darken as she looked at him, but then, slowly, the colour crept back in. “Do you think me selfish, Harry?”

“What?” Harry looked at her with incomprehension. “After all you’re done, how could you even…”

“Selfish for wanting to keep people safe even in their ignorance?” Hermione said softly. “Selfish for wanting to keep Ginny as far away from the fighting as possible because I don’t want to see the horror on her face when she realises that her friend is really a soldier? An assassin?”

Harry squeezed her arm. “You are more than just your death count, Hermione. It took me years to realise just how much more so you were. It might take her a while, but once she’s thinking straight… I think she’ll understand.”

Hermione rubbed the space between her eyes, and Harry chuckled, unable to not make the connection between her and her father. It seemed so obvious now, but he realised that sometimes you see exactly what you want to see. Sometimes, you were blind with your eyes wide open.

“Hermione,” Harry said. “Whatever happens, sometimes friendships change. Sometimes we move on, and the people we care about can’t move on with us. The difference with family is, we’re stuck with each other, and that’s not always a good thing.”

Hermione gave Harry a half smile and laid her head on his shoulder. Harry pulled her to him with a smile. “The Dursleys are a piece of work, aren’t they?”

“A train wreck of bad,” Harry admitted.

“My parents were distant,” Hermione said softly. “But at least they did their best to provide for me. I never doubted their love for each other. I saw it every day. I did, however, constantly doubt their love for me.”

Harry hugged her to him, rubbing her shoulders. “I love you too, sis. I hope you know that.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I do, my fuzzy ring-tailed brother.”

Harry grinned at her, mischief in his eyes that spoke of so many pillaged store containers and baking tins.

“I love you too,” Hermione said softly. For a moment, as she sad there, staring into her brother’s eyes, he saw a very human and vulnerable Hermione. It was a Hermione that raised her hand and waved it incessantly and burrowed into the library like a tick. It was a Hermione that knew so many things from the pages of books but not so much in the reality of war. Perhaps, it was the Hermione that would have been, had other choices been made back in her second year.

Then, like a cloud moving across the sun, Hermione’s true face reasserted itself upon her countenance. It was the daughter of Professor Snape that stared back at him—a mixture of ruthless soldier and defender of family and sole Apprentice to the Dark wizard, Severus Snape. Her innocence had been sacrificed for a greater good that even Albus Dumbledore may not truly be able to fathom. Both her innocence and her normal life and friendships had payment for what she had become.

And as if offering her restitution for what she lost, Life gave her something in return for her sacrifice. It gave her a Home and a Family, built on a kind of bond that could not be broken, stolen, or corrupted. There would always be loss, pain, and things that slipped through the cracks, but it would not be her Family. It would never be her Pack.

Coils yawns fitfully into Hermione’s ear, shifting his body around her neck lazily. He had been listening to their entire interaction, but Hermione’s hand went to his scales and pressed her skin to his scaled hide with a smile. “I love you too, brother,” Hermione said warmly, turning her head to kiss Draco on the top of his scaled head.

Draco coiled tighter around her neck and radiated heat in a serpent blush, but both of them could feel the affection he had for his gryphon sister. None of them could hide such feelings anymore. Hermione had become a catalyst, of sorts. She embodied the Song of the Pack in a way the other members did not. Whatever petty hatreds and misunderstandings Harry and Draco may have had at once time, dissolved in her warmth. The warmth had survived despite it all, and ironically, Harry knew the reason it had: Snape.

The greasy, snarly, acerbic, dungeon bat of Hogwarts had nurtured one of the healthiest Packs yet unknown to the Wizarding world, and it was in this revelation that Harry realised that, despite his desire to include Ginny, whether in sympathy or some annoying duty drilled into him from his House, that Ginny may be a friend, but she may never be Pack. The song did not claim her like it had for him any more than it resonated with Ron or Neville.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said suddenly.

Hermione turned her head to him, blinking. “Hrm?”

“For… assuming I could just bring someone into the Pack’s confidence,” Harry replied. “Looking on it, I realise it was very presumptuous of me.”

Hermione’s shoulders relaxed, and Harry sadly realised that he still had a learning curve when it came to the Pack. “It’s okay, Harry. At least you didn’t wake up my Master with your silly Gryffindor needs.”

Harry sputtered, rapping his head against her shoulder with indignation.

Hermione grinned at him. It was a very Slytherin sort of look.

There was a sad meow from the counter top and Coils, Ringtail, and Hermione looked up from the floor they were sitting on to peer at the counter. Crookshanks sat dejectedly as Minerva was chowing down on the plate of tuna Winky had left for him. Minerva was having a great old time, or so it seemed. Crookshanks, however, was looking forlornly at his poached meal.

Minerva licked her jowls and leapt off the counter, padding over to Hermione and jumping into her lap, kneading her lap with her paws and settling in it like a normal house cat.

Crooks eagerly finished what Minerva had left him, inhaling the food like a vacuum cleaner in the fear that Minerva would change her mind and come back for the rest.

Hermione laughed, stroking Minerva between the ears. “The King has been dethroned,” she chuckled.

Minerva meowed her approval, gliding her cheek against Hermione’s finger.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Ginny awoke, she had really strong feeling that she was being watched. She rubbed her eyes and looked around, and realised that her three other dormitory mates were passed out like there had been a winning Quidditch after-game party right in the dorm. There were celebratory cheese balls and crisps spread around the top of the duvet covers to prove it. Ginny grunted. At least when Hermione had lived in the dorms, the place seemed ultimately… cleaner.

As her eyes scanned the room, she caught the outline of black sitting on the end of her bed, and it took a great deal of effort not to scream like a little girl and dive under the covers as though the monster in the closet was real.

Hermione, still as a statue, sat on the end of her bed, her long robes draped over herself with the same intimidating flow of fabric that her Master had probably patented somewhere at the Office of Magical Intimidation.

“Hermione?” Ginny managed to breathe out.

“Hello… Ginny,” Hermione said. She paused with Ginny’s name as though saying it instead of the more formal mode of address was physically painful to her.”

Ginny winced, wondering where the warmth Hermione used to give with such abandon had gone. The one who spend countless hours giggling with her over silly conversation over homework seemed like only a hazy memory.

“Care to have a walk with me?” Hermione asked neutrally, her dark eyes stared into her without emotion, but something flickered across her eyes—a flash of colour and it was gone.

“Sure,” Ginny said. “Just let me… put on some pants, ya?”

“Might want to put on a shirt as well,” Hermione said dryly, so smoothly that it took Ginny a moment to realise she was teasing her. When she looked at her face, there was nothing to indicate humour, yet, there had been something in her words that seemed so. Somehow, Hermione had become exceedingly complicated, elusive, and as hard to crack as a vault in Gringott’s. Normal tells were lost on Hermione. She had a better chance at getting the twins to give her a serious face than get Hermione to give her an unguarded expression.

After being dressed down and chewed out by her twin brothers and even Ron and Harry after the candy incident, she wondered what on Earth had possessed her to do such a thing. It was like part of her was willing to do anything to get Hermione back, while the other part of her whispering all the horrible things she should do to make sure Hermione didn’t abandon her again. That same part was convinced that Hermione had done exactly that… left her alone. She was from a Pureblood family. She was infinitely more important and interesting than whatever Hermione was doing. How dare she ignore her?

Ginny clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm until tears practically came to her eyes. What in Merlin’s name was wrong with her?

Ginny pulled on some clean clothes and pulled her uniform robes on over it.

Hermione swept the room in front of her, leaving down the staircase with a flurry of her Apprentice robes. She left as she had entered, utterly silent.

Ginny met up with Hermione past the portrait portal, struggling to keep up with Hermione’s silent footsteps. Mrs. Norris was padding their way as they made their way down the early morning corridors, and Ginny felt the desire to dive into hidden cranny. Hermione, however, continued walking. Mrs. Norris skidded to a halt in front of Hermione, her unnervingly red eyes staring up at her. Hermione stared back down at the caretaker’s familiar, her dark eyes completely unreadable. Ginny fidgeted. The pair simply stood, staring at each other silent. Then, after what seemed like hours, Mrs. Norris flicked one of her ears and padded down the hallway, on her way to places yet unknown.

Hermione was watching her again. Her gaze unwavering. Ginny swallowed hard and caught up to her, following her out into the courtyard and beyond. Her friend was completely silent as she walked, both from her footsteps as well as her voice. She said nothing, asked nothing, and demanded nothing. It was, Ginny had to admit, far more unnerving than being yelled at.

Hermione led her out to the edge of Black Lake and stood at the edge, staring off into the ripples of current.

“I will confess to a bit of…conflict, Ginny,” Hermione said at last. Her voice did not waver, but it pitch low like a rumble. “In that I am not sure I have been or can be what you consider a,” Hermione said with a pause, “good friend.”

“I had come to value you enough that I have taken liberties in protecting you without your permission or knowledge,” she said, watching the ducks swim along the edge of a lake. “I had found myself enjoying your company. I… trusted you.”

“However,” Hermione said, cutting off what Ginny was preparing to say, “there are some things I find I cannot share with you, Ginny, for no other reason than knowing that if I say something to you. Let us just say, this conversation, that it will not be repeated to someone else.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Hermione!” Ginny protested.

Hermione turned to look at her, her hair whipped around her face with writhing snakes on the head of Medusa. Her lips were pursed in a thin line. “You exposed my trips to Hogsmeade before I could tell Harry or Ron myself. You told them about my training with ‘the Durmstrang’ as you put it before I was comfortable with anyone knowing. The last secret I told you that you didn’t reveal to someone was that Viktor Krum had invited me to the Yule Ball, and I think the only reason that was so is because I only told you the night before and everyone else was asleep.”

Ginny looked at her with a pleading expression. “I won’t tell anyone about this, Hermione. I wouldn’t!”

“And if Ron asks you where you were this morning?” Hermione asked.

“I’d just tell him I was at the lake talking to you,” Ginny said. “I wouldn’t have to give details.”

Hermione stiffened her posture, taking in a long breath and seemingly holding it for much longer than usual. Ginny waited, too conflicted to know what to say or what to do. She simply watched her standing there as she looked out over the lake for answers to a question that only she seemed to know.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione closed her eyes, allowing the lake breeze to kiss her face and bring her a measure of calm. Perhaps, her ideas, shared with Pack, were something foreign to the normal witch or wizard of Hogwarts. The idea of privacy and secret keeping was honed to a Slytherin and Durmstrang edge of sharp paranoia. Was it too much to ask for a typical person, to treat every conversation as treasured secret documents? Maybe not in a normal situation, but what about now while they were in the middle of a very real war?

She used to think that Moody was a bit overly paranoid, but was she, Severus, Draco, or her Sky Brothers any better? Remus and Sirius had sworn on their wands and their lives to keep their secrets safe. They had done so directly after she, her Master, and Draco had saved them both from the train wreck that was Petter Pettigrew and the full moon. But they had both sworn practical fealty, willingly, in their own desire to atone. Now that they were Pack, however, such oaths were moot. Loyalty was imprinted onto their souls. Having to ask Ginny to make a similar vow seemed cheapened by having to do the asking. You had to want to give your word and mean it for it to mean anything.

“I’ll be honest with you, Ginny,” Hermione said. “I’m still too hurt right now to think you capable of change.”

Ginny looked like she was going to cry, but Hermione held up her hand again, asking her silently to wait for her to finish before busting to pieces.

“But that does not mean I do not want the opposite to be true,” Hermione said softly. “Attempts on my life are nothing new, Ginny. The moment I took this Apprenticeship, I painted a large target on my back that attracts all manner of loathsome characters attempting to take me out for their own status elevation, however misguided it is.

“I cannot afford to be sabotaged from within my own circles, Ginny,” Hermione said grimly. “I may not be the person you think I am. I may not be the friend you want or need. I won’t make excuses for my own detachment, my erratic schedule, or my sudden inexplicable need to be elsewhere. It is simply the way I am. If you still think I can be the friend that can be there for you, then we should talk again.”

“Hermione, I want to be your friend, don’t you see?” Ginny asked. “I consider you my best friend, and I was so afraid I was losing you.”

Hermione turned against the wind, her hair whipped and blew forward. “Please, Ginny. I’m asking you to search yourself and ask if what little I can offer you is enough. It’s not fair to you to cling on to an ideal that I can never attain. It’s not fair to me, either, to have to. If you truly think you can live with that, then we will work something out, but I need you to think long and hard on it, and maybe, when I’ve healed enough, I’ll be ready to hear your answer.”

Hermione reached down into the lake bed and pulled out a shiny black stone. She turned it over in her hand, and clasped it in her fist so tightly that her knuckles went white. After a moment, her grip loosened around the stone, and she gave a heavy sigh.

Hermione positioned her hand towards Ginny as if to give her something, and Ginny opened her hands with a puzzled expression.

Hermione dropped what was in her hand into Ginny’s and swept by her, the sound of her black robes fluttering was the only evidence of her passing as she made her way back up towards Hogwarts.

Ginny looked down into her hand. One solitary yellow rose sat in her palm. The petals were rimmed in crimson red. Each petal glistened with droplets of moisture that shimmered like diamonds upon the surface of the bloom. One droplet slowly moved towards the end of the petal and fell towards the ground like tear.

Ginny’s lip quivered as she clasped the rose in her hand with a slight tremble. “I’m sorry, too,” she said softly to the flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow roses, at least in modern times, can be an apology. Red, usually, unless your culture has been grown under radiation in a petri dish, symbolises love. I figured a little symbolism would be something Hermione would do when words fail her. It’s not that Hermione isn’t her own sort of wordsmith, but I think that she has a hard time communicating with those that are not intimately bound to her life (such as the Pack.) In a way, perhaps, this is a carry over to how she was when she first came to Hogwarts. Plenty of book smarts, but dang if she didn’t suck at making friends. (I mean come on now, it took a TROLL get the Golden Trio together, after all…)  
> As for St. Mungo’s, that will probably be up next, when I can pull my head out of my very large exam studying FRENZY! (arrgh!)  
> Oh! And Happy Valentine’s Day (one day in advance!)


	88. St. Mungos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco test a formula.  
> Draco does what he does best.  
> Healer Ashbrook evaluates Ginny.

_“And_ glory _like the phoenix_

_Midst her fires,_

_Exhales her odours, blazes,_

_And expires.” - Grimm_

**Chapter 88: St. Mungo’s**

Ron had spent the last hour whining that he had better things to do than be dragged off to St. Mungo’s. Harry snapped at him when he had finally had enough and said that he could take a few hours out of his busy snogging schedule to be checked out with both he and Ginny.

Ron’s grumbling was his only answer, but at least he had stopped whining. He also refused to look Harry in the eyes.

“It’s been like… four bloody years since the Chamber of secrets,” Ron grumbled. “Why have us checked out now of all times?”

“Don’t look at me, Ron,” Harry said. “They are going to poke me too as you well know.”

“Ginny, for the love of Merlin, sit down,” Ron groaned. “You’re pacing a path into the rug.”

“One of Professor McGonagall’s favourite rugs, too,” Harry chuckled.

“I can’t believe mum and dad signed off on this,” Ginny grumbled.

“I can’t believe it took this long to do the right thing,” Harry grunted.

“What?” Ron and Ginny said at the same time.

Harry sighed. “Ever wonder why Dumbledore didn’t send us to be checked out back when it happened?”

“Fawkes cried on you, Harry,” Ron said as if that explained everything. “Doesn’t that kind of cancel out any problems you may or may not have had?”

Harry rubbed his head. “I admit that was very generous of Fawkes, but even I wanted more than a cursory check up after it happened. I’m happy to go, if anything, so I know I’m going to to keel over to belated basilisk venom at the age of seventeen.”

Ron seemed to chew on his response for a moment longer than his typical instant reply. “I suppose you’re right. It would be nice to know that Lockhart’s memory charm didn’t leak out over me due to my broken wand. I may have forgotten something and not even known it.”

Harry nodded and leaned back in the wing back chair that he was convinced was charmed to be so comfortable that no one sitting in it would realise that their soul was being sucked out of them. He had the desire to shift and lay on his back and roll on the chair with a tasty bagel in his paws. It would have been perfect.

The door creaked open as McGonagall and Lupin walked in. “Thank you for taking them over, Remus,” Minerva said. “You can use my floo.”

Lupin smiled and nodded. “It’s not a problem, Minerva. All my classes are through for the day.”

McGonagall smiled. She placed a hand on Remus’ shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but Harry felt the tremor of the Pack bond surge with the touch. It was so easily seen as something innocent and normal, but it so much more. McGonagall’s normally stern expression had become just another mask.

“Well, then, off you go,” Minerva said. “I look forward to a clean bill of health from each of you. I’m just sorry we never bothered to when it happened.”

“It’s okay, Professor,” Harry said. “Professor Dumbledore seemed to think since we were alive that we were fine.”

Minerva shook her head. “Being alive and being fine are not always the same, I fear, Mr. Potter. Put and old witch’s fears to rest. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry replied, prodding Ron in the ribs with his elbow.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ron parroted.

The group of them filed towards the floo and took turns standing in the fireplace and throwing powder into.

“St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,” Harry said, and the green flames whisked him away to the distant hospital.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione sat with her fingers steepled together. Her eyes were dark as she looked throughout the room. “What do you think, Draco?” she asked softly.

“I think there is too much madness in this world, my sister,” Draco replied. “More madness than sanity.”

Hermione’s dark eyes flicked across the room and she nodded. She pulled out a vial from her robe pocket. A golden liquid swirled within the vial, shimmering as though sunlight itself was contained within. “So many Dark curses. Dark maladies. Dark… problems. Yet, magic is never so cruel as to not provide a counter for each action.”

“The key is having the patience to find it, yes?” Draco asked with a smirk, drumming his fingers together in front of his face.

“Aye, brother,” she replied. “Or a long enough lifespan.”

“Imagine all the things Master Desmondon knows or has forgotten throughout his life.

Hermione smiled, “He has probably forgotten more things than most of can remember in one lifetime.”

Draco leaned into Hermione with a grunt. “Do you think it will work?”

“I do not know,” she said softly. “The recipe is ancient, and the ingredients are not limitless. We cannot, in good conscience, even though it could save lives, condemn an entire race to extinction for the power of their blood.”

“It is a delicate balance we walk, sister,” Draco said, “Between the lighter and darker grey and behind the scenes of one rise of power to the next.”

“So philosophical, Coils,” she chuckled. “My eleven year old self would be appalled that such a thing comes from Draco Malfoy.”

Draco grinned at her.

“This potion has a time-release on it,” Hermione said softly. “To make the results gradual and seemingly natural. It will keep the healers here from seeing great leaps in improvement, if such things happen at all.”

“Wise,” Draco said, brushing his hair back with his hand. “Also, probably best for the patient, yes? To ease back into sanity, rather than wake up one morning in a hospital and too many memories of what put them there.”

Hermione nodded.

“Healer Gallenburg checked the potion out for you?” Draco asked.

Hermione nodded. “He said it was safe to use. It will either work or it will pass through a person’s system without harming them. He also agreed that despite the immediate desire to bring cures to all of his patients, he doesn’t want to see an entire race of Re’ems hunted down because of it. They are already endangered as it is due to their strength potion properties.”

“Strength potions seem overrated in a world with magic anyway. What good does being able to bench press when you flick your wand and do the same?” Draco grunted.

Hermione chuckled. She stood up. “Now’s the time, I suppose,” she said. She walked over to the drink pitcher that was sitting in the middle of the room as it waited for the caretakers to distribute it. She unstoppered the vial and measured out careful drops into the pitcher and stirred it. The liquid inside the pitcher flashed a radiant golden colour and then faded back to normal.

The pair looked to all of the patients in this particular ward and had a sad look upon her face. Every one of the patients stared into space or rocked back and forth, seeing but not truly seeing. They were all locked inside their own heads. Hermione put the vial back into her robes and let out her breath slowly.

“Are Muggle hospitals this depressing?” Draco asked after a while.

“There are quite a few issues in Muggle hospitals due to the absence of magical healing,” Hermione answered. “I guarantee you that the year Harry had to regrow his bones that it would not have gone well in a Muggle hospital.”

Draco snorted. “I would hope that in the Muggle world, someone could not just… remove your bones, either.”

Hermione tilted her head. “True.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, his tongue flicked out slightly in an echo of his other form.

Hermione lifted her head. “What is it?”

“Father was here,” Draco said lowly. “I smell his cologne. He has it specially crafted in Italy. It has… ambergris in it. It’s very distinctive.”

Draco stood as Hermione did, their faces grim.

“How do you want to handle it, Draco?” Hermione asked.

“This one is mine,” Draco said with flash of his silver eyes.

Hermione drew Draco to her shoulder for a moment, her face pressed into his hair. “Be careful, my brother.”

Draco pressed his face into his sister’s bushy hair and inhaled. “Always,” he answered before he blended into the halls of Mungos and disappeared.

Hermione straighted her spine and squared her shoulders. When it rained, it poured.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco was curled around in inconspicuous garment rack, watching the passing of people as they went by. The scent that had wafted into him invoked a visceral response. He stuck his head out just enough to watch the goings on of the hospital, his tongue tasting the air for the familiar scent he knew well.

His father was here. Either he or one or more of his people. That the female Weasel was here was just too good of a coincidence. The question was… was the connection to the Dark Lord willing or subconscious?

Draco narrowed his eyes. Weaselette was many things, but she had conjured a very substantial patronus during the DA meetings, from what Hermione and Harry had said. That was hardly a Death Eater sort of action. That left influence, and Draco of all people knew what the Dark Lord did to the psyche of his people, minions, pawns, and agents.

His father was the ultimate example of what the Dark Lord did to his chosen. Bellatrix Lestrange, too, was just one more example. One, at least, was in Mungos where she belonged. His father, on the other hand, was still out there, throwing around his influence and greasing cogs in the Wizarding machine. How long would it take for people to see the true face of Lucius Malfoy? Perhaps it would be the same amount of time it would take them to insure the Dark Lord would not be able to resurrect himself.

He had spent over an hour coiled under a hamper of towels watching his aunt literally foam at the mouth and rock and forth in place in her bed. There had been no sign of activity. No one, save the staff, visited her room, and his father hadn’t even poked his head in for a family visit.

Now, as he draped himself under a random coat that smelled like it had been there for the past few months without being moved. Draco yawned fanglessly, patiently waiting for something to clue him in to his father’s movements. This is what he was good at. The waiting game was his speciality. He had spent countless hours “people watching” in hundreds of places, bringing back recon to Severus from places that never suspected him.

He wasn’t fond of the odd smelling coat he was hiding in, but at least he wasn’t waiting around in a mud puddle under a deck in Knockturn Alley waiting for someone to hock illegal items in the dark side streets.Though, a part of him at least, hoped that at least one assignment he went on involved basking on a sunny beach somewhere coiled around some sort of drink involving a coconut and a little paper umbrella like Hermione had showed him from a Muggle post card. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful change?

Draco closed his eyes, listening closely to the sounds around his, his tongue flicked out every so often to taste the air for changes or familiar scents. At one point, he prepared to slip into the other nearby coat when someone looked like they were going to put on the coat he was hidden in, but at the last moment, a nurse dragged the older man away tutting that he shouldn’t overexert himself.

Draco knew this was the spot to wait. His father’s scent was thick here. It was a more secluded spot, easily ignored in the hustle and bustle of normal hospital activities. The stairwell going to all the other floors was nearby. It was too good of a place to go unnoticed. It would irresistible for someone with shadier plans on their mind.

Time passed, but Draco didn’t truly mind. The coat he was hiding in helped reflect his own warmth back on himself, and it made the waiting more comfortable. He heard combined footsteps coming closer. Draco peaked out of the collar of the coat to assess who was coming.

“Our Lord’s contact is here,” a male voice said lowly. “I have confirmed it.”

Draco retracted his head back into the coat, making himself unseen but able to listen.

“You still haven’t told me why we are here, Osmont,” the other voice grunted.

“Lucius says we must insure that the contact remains unaware. They have been too useful,” Osmont said. “Stop staring at the nurse, Blayke.”

The other man scoffed. “If they were so useful and hidden, why are we coming to check?”

“Lucius says they may have accidentally tipped them off,” Osmont replied. “Idiot girl dosed Snape’s apprentice instead of the Lovegood chit, and you know what our Lord thinks of anyone who messes with Snape’s pet.”

“So, why aren’t we out there grabbing this Lovegood wench?” Blayke growled.

“The girl is at Hogwarts,” Osmont replied. “Impossible to touch right now. What we want, however, is the father, but that is not our task. Leave that to Rutland and Dutton. Once we have the father, the girl will probably tell us exactly what we need to know.”

“That being?”

“Our Lord does not tell us… yet.”

“Fantastic.”

“Ours is not to question, but to do as we are told,” Osmont snapped. “And what we have been told to do is Imperio the diagnosing Healer and insure that the diagnostic comes back negative. Come on, lets go.”

Draco slithered down into the coat and dropped to the floor with a soft thump, weaving himself behind a cabinet and down the hall into a dark cubby hole. He assumed his human form with a grim look upon his face. Time to find his sister and Harry before Osmont and Blayke succeeded in carrying out their mission.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Healer Ashbrook walked down the corridor on the way to meet with the students brought in from Hogwarts. He was running a little late thanks to a crisis on the first floor and a patient on the fifth floor that was proclaiming himself the Minister of Magic.

Mind healers were, unfortunately, in high demand, and he was one of the few with the skill to both mend and diagnose. Most mind healers specialised in one or the other in order to hone their skills into something greater. It left people like himself more rare. He and Healer Lethbridge were the only dual specialisation mind healers in the hospital, and Lethbridge was off in the Americas at a seminar on the effects of venomous tentacula venom on the healing mind. It was groundbreaking work, but it left him holding together the fort until she could return.

Ashbrook flipped through the chart. Three adolescents that had been exposed to a dangerous artifact a few years ago were only now being brought in. It should have happened directly after the exposure, and that troubled him. Why would Hogwarts wait so long? Mind healing was not something you waited until symptoms were blatant before you came in.

Ashbrook stared at the chart. Ronald Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, and Harry Potter. Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? Now, he definitely wanted to know why it had taken so long to bring in the exposed students, not even counting the fact that damage done while in such a rapid period of mental growth that problems could be harder to correct. What was Hogwarts thinking?

He went to the prepping station that was in the middle of the floor and checked the log on the desk for the room number. He ran his finger down the log, looking for the right entry, only vaguely sensing the movement behind him to indicate he was not alone.

“Pardon me, Healer… Ashbrook, is it?” a male voice said behind him.

“Yes, may I help you?” Ashbrook said as he turned around to greet who was speaking with him.

Ashbrook froze as he saw a wand pointed towards his face.

“Indeed you will, Healer Ashbrook,” the man said dangerously. “Willing or not. Imperi—”

Ashbrook’s eyes widened as an arm wrapped around the man who was pointing his wand at him. Another wand pressed into the skin of the man’s neck they jerked their arms and hissed, “Stupefy.” Ashbrook’s attacker went limp, falling to the floor with an undignified thud.

Another thud caught Ashbrook’s attention a few yards away, and a dark clad witch a stoic expression stared back at him without a word being said. Her hand unclenched from another man’s throat, releasing the body to the floor as though it were covered in slime.

“Are you uninjured, Healer Ashbrook?” the young male wizard asked. His grey eyes stared at him unwaveringly.

Ashbrook took a breathe and nodded as brown uniformed Aurors rushed up behind the young wizard and the black-clad witch.

“We came as soon as we got word,” one of the Aurors said, pointing his wand at the stupified wizard on the ground. “Are you okay, Apprentice Granger? Mr. Malfoy?”

The wizard and witch nodded grimly.

“Kingsley will appreciate a report, if you can spare a moment,” the brown-clad Auror said with a nod. “Healer Ashbrook, are you well?”

Ashbrook shook his head and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “I am fine, thank you. Just a little shaken. Attacks at the hospital are… well I never thought it would be me.”

The Auror shook his head in sympathy. “I understand. I’m sorry we did not get here in time to spare you the shock, Healer Ashbrook.”

“No one was harmed,” Ashbrook said after a time. “I consider that fortunate enough. Is there anything you require of me? I have patients to see, which unfortunately do not wait for me to less inconvenienced.”

The Aurors nodded. “You are free to go, Healer Ashbrook. All we ask is that you keep your rescue on the low so we may better gauge the reactions of those that may have known your attack was pending.”

“No worries there, my friends,” Ashbrook said with a shake of his head. “The last thing a Healer wishes for himself or his patients is more scrutiny in the public eye. However, please, accept my thanks for my rescue. He was going to Imperio me, and there is no telling what he would have made me do under it.”

The elder Auror nodded his head in affirmative. “I will pass on your kind thanks, Healer Ashbrook.” He waved his hands and the other Aurors levitated the bodies of the stunned Dark wizards and pulled them along with them down the hall.

The healer looked around and realised that the two that had rescued him were already gone, having disappeared with some of the Aurors in a blink of an eye. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking down at his armful of charts. Life went on.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Remus couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief when both Harry and Ronald received a clean bill of mental health from Healer Ashbrook. The Auror that had followed the Healer in leaned down to whisper into Remus’ ear.

Remus’ eyebrows lifted into his hair in surprise, but the Auror assured him that his “friends in the Order” had reported to them in time and assisted in the capture of two infiltrators in the hospital.

A part of Remus flinched every time it came up that it was not the elder adults making sure people were safe, but the younger generation who were barely out of the legal age of majority in the Wizarding world. Remus had to admit, at least, that Hermione and Draco were hardly examples of your typical teenager, and that their skills had been honed from far earlier than his or most Aurors.

Hermione had been a trained in combat since she was twelve, and Draco had been infiltrating areas for just as long. Hermione was the aspect of the physical fight, while Draco took pride in making look like he did as little as possible. He did his job so well, that sometimes Remus forgot just how deadly Draco was. It was hard to remember it when Draco spent most of his time draped around Hermione’s neck when he wasn’t “on a mission,” but today’s report reminded him forcibly that both of them had been tempered for their roles and did them well.

“They are back at the Auror’s office, reporting to Kingsley and Moody,” the Auror said quietly. “Ashbrook has been asked to keep the incident quiet, but we will also post some Aurors around the Hospital for a time to make it harder for anyone else to try again.”

Remus nodded gratefully to him. “Thank you for informing me,” he said.

Remus sighed with relief. The Order of the Phoenix had gained quite a bit more influence thanks to their, and Moody would snort at this, constant vigilance. What was even more ironic however, was that it was the work of the Order of the Black Owl that was spearheading the Order of the Phoenix anymore. It wasn’t Albus’ brainchild that was getting things moving.

It was the Pack, and each one of them was perfectly content with it being blamed on the other Order, that carried out the true espionage. The less attention brought to the Pack the better. There were many contacts in the Order of the Phoenix that did not cross over to the Black Owl, and that was fine. Each Order had its own purpose in the greater plan. Moody had taken over the Order of the Phoenix with military efficiency, and Severus continued to lead his Pack family in surgical strikes against places buried in the heart of Death Eater territories.

Remus ruffled Harry’s hair as he approached him after his checkup. Harry bonked his head into Remus’ shoulder in a short and sweet gesture of solidarity before he flopped next to Ron, who hadn’t stopped staring at the floor in his boredom.

Better boredom than a wizard battle, he supposed. Wizard battles involved so much more paperwork afterwards.

Remus’ eyes flicked over to watch as Healer Ashbrook used his wand to run scans over Ginevra. The young witch was scowling in annoyance. Ashbrook was in a meditative state, his wand moving in tune to the tendrils of his mind as he examined the witch’s mental pathways.

“Clean bill of health, eh Harry?” Remus asked.

Harry chuckled. “Three years later, I am happy to know I won’t just keel over from delayed reaction basilisk venom,” he said with a smile.

“From what I hear, Fawkes took good care of you,” Remus said.

“Oh, he did, Sir,” Harry agreed. “I think I would have been more appreciative if this had happened back in my second year.”

Remus grinned at him. “Assuredly. And with all due respect to Dumbledore, I am disappointed that it didn’t happen.”

Harry looked over to where Ginevra was laying down on the examination bed. “Professor Dumbledore said that she ‘was a fine young woman and would undoubtedly rebound as was normal for her youth.’”

Remus looked at Harry with a frown. “There are times, Harry, when I wonder if Professor Dumbledore keeps more from me than he tells me.”

Remus shook his head. “I fear he keeps more from all of us than he ever tell us, Harry. He hordes secrets like a dragon with treasure and guards it just as fiercely.”

Ron seemed to snap out of his brooding and staring at the hospital floor. “What is he hiding from us, Professor Lupin? It seems like every time something horrible goes down, we are always in the thick of it, and everyone wonders why but him. He’s not even here this term, or at least if he is, we’re not seeing him like we used to.”

Lupin took his own turn staring at the Hospital floor. “I do not know, Ron.”

“Lavender says there are a bunch of seventh year girls looking for the lost diadem of Ravenclaw this year because the N.E.W.T.s are coming up,” Ron said randomly. “It’s supposed to make you more intelligent when you wear it. I tried searching for it to give it to her for her birthday coming up, but I don’t even know where to start looking really. Did you know that Ginny wanted me to keep looking for it? She said it would be so romantic if I found it for Lavender and had her wear it.”

Harry, still a bit unnerved by Ron’s preoccupation with Lavender, fidgeted uncomfortably, but something tingled in the back of his mind when Ron said Ginny wanted him to look for it. “What’s the story on this diamond?”

“Diadem, Harry,” Remus corrected. “It’s a crown or circle of sorts. If you look at the portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw, she has it on her head. Legend says she crafted it herself, and that she charmed it to raise the intelligence of the wearer. That was greatest concern of the House, ‘wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.’”

Harry treaded carefully. “Ron, why do you think Ginny wanted you to find some old crown. She’s never been much for jewelry, ya?”

Ron shook his head. “She said it would bring me and Lavender together more closely,” Ron replied. “Not that it matters. I couldn’t find the bloody thing. I tried.”

Harry looked at Remus, exchanging glances that traded their suspicions equally. Severus had insured every member of the Pack knew of the centaurs’ prophecies in the case something came up that resembled them. The sixth horcrux, according to the centaurs, was a jewel or a crown. The diadem was both. That Ginny was interested in it seemed all too convenient.

There was crash on the bed as Ginny flung herself out of the bed and had her wand at the healer’s throat. “Get out of my brain, you filthy…”

“Ginny!” Harry and Ron scrambled up even as Remus pulled his wand and was advancing forward.

As Ron ran in, Ginny hit him with a hex, causing Ron to fall backwards as his legs locked together and he fell forwards onto his face.

The distraction of taking care of Ron freed the Healer to point his wand at Ginny and loose a spell into her back. Ginny stumbled forward and slumped into Remus, who caught her in her fall.

Harry put the counter-hex on Ron, unlocking his legs.

“Are you okay, Healer Ashbrook?” Remus asked, laying Ginny back on the examination bed. “What happened?”

“I ran into a block in her mind,” Ashbrook said with a sigh. “It was concealed in under the currents of her normal thoughts. Mirroring them almost exactly. But at one point, if I shifted the diagnostic, the currents would shift, and her thoughts would no longer be singular.”

“What does that mean, Healer Ashbrook? Remus asked.

“I will need to call in her parents,” Ashbrook said after a moment. “She requires treatment over time. There is a presence inside her. An insidious connection. It’s lived in her long enough to simulate her ‘normal’ responses… almost perfectly. There is no telling which is which is dominant. At least. Not this soon.”

Ron looked at his younger sister with an anguished expression.

Harry looked grim. “And you’re sure there wasn’t this connection inside of me, Sir?” Harry said quickly.

Ashbrook shook his head. “No, Mr. Potter. Both you and Mr. Weasley are singular in your thoughts. I was very thorough.”

Harry gave a sigh of relief and nodded.

“I am glad you brought her in, Professor Lupin,” Ashbrook said. “I will do the appropriate paper work and admit her as well as inform the parents.”

Remus nodded. “I will inform the acting Headmistress.”

Ashbrook gestured to the hall, and one of the tending floor healers came in and they worked together to prepare Ginny for being moved to a new room.

“Mum is going to have a kneazle,” Ron said worriedly.

Harry nodded grimly. “Healer Ashbrook?” he said after staring at Ginny laying in the bed.

“Yes?” the healer answered quietly.

“Will she be okay again?” Harry asked.

“I will do my best to make it so, Mr. Potter,” Ashbrook answered. “But half the fight is hers alone. She must want to return to herself even if it means being alone in her own head. For someone who has been living like this for years… it will be difficult.”

Harry nodded, concern written about his face.

“Come, Harry, Ron,” Remus said. “Let’s get you back to Hogwarts. “We will leave Ginny in Healer Ashbrook’s capable hands.”

The two younger wizards allowed themselves to be guided to the exit floor.


	89. Xenophilius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death Eaters are after Xenophilius.  
> Aurors help move out the Dursleys from danger.

Chapter 89: Xenophilius

Truth be told, Xenophilius Lovegood made a lot of people uncomfortable in person. He wasn’t a entirely easy person to talk to, not for lack of trying, but he always seem to speak of things that were slightly askew from reality. Conversations seemed to continue on without help from outside parties, and it wasn’t too hard to see where Luna had acquired some of her more obvious character straits.

Xenophilius, much like his name, had a love of the strange and borderline paranoid, yet the strange rarely actually helped him in a practical way. The enemies and factoids he saw in his life had an equal amount of chance of being true as they did being false, and while he seemed well meaning, he rarely actually managed to make feel people at ease or well informed. Much like his daughter’s ability to be both lucid and completely whimsical at the same time, Xenophilius was a complicated sort of man.

It was actually the Weasley family that seemed to be able to translate Xenophilius’ words into some semblance of understandable conversation, perhaps due to living as neighbours for so many years. So when Moody needed someone to explain things to the scatterbrained wizard, he lassoed Molly and Arthur into doing it.

The Weasleys, dealing with the fact their youngest daughter was undergoing mind healing at St. Mungos, were distracted at the very least. Molly’s concern for her daughter had her wringing her hands often, and Arthur would often reach over to pat his wife on the arm in comfort.

“Do you truly think that they would come after me?” Xenophilius asked. “It’s not like any of them truly want to know my knowledge involving Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.”

“I don’t think that is the reason they want you,” Arthur said patiently. “I think it has everything to do with capturing your daughter instead.”

“My daughter?” Xeno’s eyes grew wide, a flicker of true fear entering his expression. “Why would they want Luna? She’s all I have…”

Concern for a beloved daughter, the Weasleys could sympathise with, and it seemed to make Molly more tolerant of Xeno’s constant mental derailment.

“She’s a very smart young witch, Xeno,” Arthur said softly. “It is possible they think she knows something the rest of us do not. You would be leverage.”

Xenophilius shook his head his head in denial. “She’s just a young girl.”

Molly frowned slightly. “She’s more than that,” she said. She looked at Xeno with a measure of pity. Unlike most people, the Weasleys remembered a time when they had the friendship of both Xenophilius and Pandora Lovegood. They remembered a time when Xeno had been a dashing young man with a razer wit and pervasive calm. All of that had changed when his wife had died to a magical experiment of her own making in front of their own daughter. It wasn’t that others had no idea of what Xeno was like before, but it was hard to reconcile the man he had become with who he had once been. The change was too great.

Molly knew in her heart that if something happened to Arthur and she lost him, a part of her would be forever broken as well, and only the Gods knew if she would end up the same as Xenophilius.

“We don’t want you living alone, Xenophilius,” Arthur said candidly. “I know it will be far from ideal for a time, but you shouldn’t be alone during this dangerous time. We have a room for you. You can stay with us until this crisis is resolved.”

“I’m a grown man,” Xeno said bitterly. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not the point!” Molly retorted. “The point is that if you are taken in your sleep, your daughter will be next. Is that what you want? To endanger her?”

Xeno paled. “No… no… not my daughter. No.”

Arthur touched his arm, a look of understanding on his face. “Just stay with us, Xeno. Let us help you keep yourself safe.”

Xenophilius put his head in his hands. “Okay… okay. I’ll live with you until it blows over.”

Arthur and Molly looked over to where Moody and Kingsley were standing and nodded. Moody and Kingsley gave them both grim nods.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The four dark clad wizards materialised outside the Lovegood home under the cover of darkness. The moon was a bare sliver in the sky, providing very little light in which to navigate in the gloom.

An owl hooted from somewhere in the darkness, and the four wizards muttered to themselves. They silently went to the door, pointing their wands both at around them in case they were being watched.

The door to the residence swung open, and the Death Eaters smirked to each other.

“Useless,” the one said.

“Not even a trap to be found,” the other said.

“You sure the idiot is still here?”

“He refused to leave, the idiot,” one of them scoffed. “That’s what makes this sort of thing so easy. “No one wants to believe they are vulnerable.”

They walked into the dark house, curling their lips at the horrible colour schemes and oddball dishes and table settings. “Split up,” the taller wizard snapped. “Find him.”

They broke off into separate rooms, scooting around various strange sculptures, boxes, and scattered dishes.

“Rutland,” one of the wizards hissed.

“What, Dutton?” the other replied.

Dutton jerked his head towards a half open door.

Rutand hissed a response, pointing his wand in front of him. He looked into the room. A blond head of hair poked out from the duvet. Rutland narrowed his eyes. He pointed his wand at him with a curve of his lips. “Crucio!”

There was a loud thump outside the room.

Rutland cursed, lunging towards the bed to take care of Xenophilius, but as he flung the duvet off the bed, he noticed two things.

One, Xenophilius was a broom with a wig, and two, there was a wand pressed into the flesh of his neck.

“Hello, Rutland,” Alastor hissed, slamming his artificial leg heavily onto Rutland’s foot. “Nice night for an evening kidnapping, eh?”

Alastor’s hand pulled Rutland’s head back as “Stupefy!” rang in his ears.

As Alastor shoved Rutland in front of him into the main room, the other tied up Death Eaters were piled on the dining room floor as his fellow Aurors stood over them. It was a relief that, for change, that the Aurors weren’t the ones losing members with each battle. He couldn’t remember a time back in the First War where Aurors weren’t being sacrificial lambs to the slaughter at the hand of the Dark Lord. Despite his misgivings that he had harboured against Severus Snape since… well since he first knew him, he had to admit that the wizard had been key to the success in the current war. He was finally, grudgingly, admitting that maybe Albus’ insistence that Severus Snape could be trusted may have actually been true. Snape definitely inspired a kind of loyalty in “his” people. His apprentice’s loyalty to her Master was beyond reproach, and Granger was a witch with impeccable character. Maybe it would be easier to accept Snape as being more trustworthy if Albus was actually not suffering from goatification. Then again… Snape hadn’t forced the old wizard to put on the fake artifact. That had been all Albus. Perhaps it was time to accept that Albus was, oddly, better where he was: blissfully munching grass and hanging with the nannies.

“Let’s get these buggers to the office” Moody snapped, gesturing his hand.

“Yes, Sir!” the other Aurors replied.

It wasn’t soon after that when the Lovegood house was silent again, and a dark owl launched from a perch in the nearby bush, flying off into the horizon on hushed wing beats.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione hunkered down in the grass, her body low and belly close to the ground. Her body was taught like a spring, her tail still save for the slight twitch of the fluff of her tail. Her wings were pinned to her body as she stared into the haze of the fog that had risen with the change in weather. Her prey was close.

Cerberus crouched down beside her, mirroring her actions with careful movements. Hermione eyed her prey with patience, waiting for an opening.

A snap of a twig caused her prey to jolt, whirling towards the sound, but Hermione moved to pounce. He had turned away from her instead of towards.

Hermione slammed into Draco with an chirp and eagle chuckle, toppling the blond haired wizard into the foliage. She head butt her massive head into her chest and flopped on him with a purring rumble, her tail looped tightly in her amusement. Cerberus pinned down his legs, laying over them, making it impossible for the wizard to move.

“Argh!” Draco complained. “I yield.”

Hermione’s tail swished back and forth as her eyes bored into him. Cerberus drooled on his knees in triplicate.

“I will never take the last brownie again, I swear!” Draco moaned.

Hermione shifted, giving her brother a playful swat. “Brownie stealing git,” she huffed.

Draco smiled at her, scratching Cerberus behind the ears. He rolled over onto his back and begged him to stroke his belly. Draco obliged with a chuckle.

There was the soft whoosh of wings as Severus landed, his dark robes hanging around his shoulders like a shroud. Flanking him, her Sky Brothers landed as well. Viktor landed in a rush of wing beats, stirring up grass and dust, and Harry leapt off his back with an oof.

There was a crack, and Alastor apparated in to be followed by Tonks and a handful of other Aurors. Sirius and Remus apparated in after them, making quite a crowd on the darkened street and field.

“You ready, Potter?” Alastor grunted.

Harry nodded with a curt shake of his head. “I’m ready, Sir. Everything arranged?”

Kingsley nodded. “Apprentice Granger’s family is safely relocated. All that is left now is…”

Harry looked down the darkened street. “They are horrible examples of relatives,” he said grimly. “But they don’t deserve to die because of me.”

Hermione wrapped her arm around Harry, and he leaned into her.

“They won’t want to go,” Harry said. “They won’t want to believe.”

“Lack of belief does not make something untrue, Potter,” Moody snapped. “You would think those relations of yours would accept that, considering all the magic they have witnessed to be real.”

Harry shook his head. “You don’t know my Uncle and Aunt, Sir. If anyone can deny what is in front of them, it’s them. I’m pretty sure if Merlin himself appeared in front of them, they would call him a fraud.”

Tonks looked appalled by the description of the Dursley family. “You had to live with these people, Harry?”

“Unfortunately,” Harry said. “At least… I was lucky. I found my real family.”

Sirius rubbed Harry’s shoulder and nodded.

“Well then, let’s get this going,” Moody grunted.

Harry sucked in his breath and nodded, and the group of them walked down Privet Drive together.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I don’t believe it,” Harry’s uncle snarled as he stood rigid by the fireplace, his eyes squeezed half shut in a squint. “We aren’t in danger. Whatever you brought upon yourself with your freakish lot has nothing to do with us. No one is coming here to threaten us. Whoever they are just want you.”

“Mr. Dursley,” Shacklebolt said in an official voice. “The danger to you is real. It will not matter that you are M… not magically inclined. It will not matter that you do not know anything. They will not believe you, and there is a chance… a very large chance that as things progress, agents will hunt for you, your wife, and your son for no better reason than you know Mr. Potter.”

“This is just an elaborate conspiracy to get the house!” Vernon roared.

“The house?” Harry parroted. “The HOUSE?”

“This house is ours!” his uncle bellowed, his face red and the veins in his neck were bulging. “You just want us out so you can wave your fingers and make the your name appear on the deeds!”

“Are you completely mental?” Harry scoffed. “We come here to save your lives and all you can come up with is a plot to steal your bloody house?”

Harry’s aunt looked like she was ready to blow her top. Her face was red, and she was wringing her hands.

“I am perfectly happy where I am,” Harry said with a curl of his lips. “I have no desire for your house.”

“You say that now—”

“I do not have any desire to have the place I spent thirteen years of my life living under twelves locks on a door, shoved in a cupboard under the stairs, and only allowed to have Dudley’s second bedroom because you were afraid someone would find out that you were harbouring a child in a cupboard!” Harry roared.

“Mr. Dursley,” Moody snapped, standing between Harry and his uncle. “Perhaps we were not clear. This operation is to save your lives and keep you from being tortured for information you would not be able to give. They will continue to torture you because you would never be able to answer them. They will enjoy it. They will most likely start with him,” Moody said, jabbing his finger toward Dudley. “While you watch. They will then, move on to one of you… or both at the same time. Do you understand? I do not think your world is so sheltered that you are ignorant of the ways of war.”

“Your wars with your own freakish kind don’t—” Vernon began.

“I”ll go with you,” Dudley said suddenly, standing up from the armchair.

“The hell you wi—” Vernon started to say.

“Father,” Dudley replied. “You saw what happened down the street the summer Harry left. Something unexplained just came in and terrified the Summer’s family. They said it was like all the happiness was just sucked out of the air. It was real.”

Harry’s eyes widened. The last thing he expected was rational thought from Dudley.

Two things happened at that point. One, Vik chirped an alarm from Hermione’s hair, and two, Cerberus let out a low rumbling growl.

Hermione, Draco, and Severus let out a low hiss. Severus flung out his hand, and all the lights went out. Hermione drove herself at Harry’s aunt, shoving her towards Sirius.

Tonks grabbed Vernon by the collar and dragged him into the dark of the room. Dudley allowed himself to be dragged out of the centre of the room by Moody.

Hermione hissed something in Bulgarian, causing the Bulgarians in the room to disappear into the dark of the house. She motioned in the gloom, with her hands, and Draco and Severus disappeared into the dark.

Aurors dispersed in the dark, and Harry felt Sirius guarding his back, placing his back against his.

There was a crash from upstairs, and angry male voices came soon after. Harry saw a flutter of dark fabric, and he knew immediately that it was not Severus or Hermione. He signalled to Sirius, and they moved together towards the wall, pressing their backs to it.

A deep triple bark came from the kitchen, and a horrible scream and a crunching noise came and went.

A dark clad figure entered the room from the side door, and Harry saw the glint of the dim light on their race. The figure was not dressed like a Death Eater. They were, however, dressed in dark clothes. Whoever it was, they were almost dishevelled in appearance.

Harry’s Aunt Petunia chose that moment to let out a whimper, and the figure spun around, a spell coming from his mouth.

Sirius launched himself at the man, cold cocking the intruder with his fist even as Harry sent out a stupefy and a incarcerous in rapid succession. Sirius nodded to him as Harry dragged the body towards to the corner.

Another shadowy character lunged out of the nearby door, making a beeline towards Dudley and Moody. Moody shoved Dudley behind him and sent out a spell, but the wizard snarled, dodging it, but Harry was ready as well, shouting out a chain of curses that made the ground slip his target up.

Moody and Tonks yelled out simultaneous stuns as Harry threw a binding and silencing spell, and the attacker fell to the feet of Dudley, who had a wide eyed expression of horror on his face.

A body went crashing through the far wall, and man wreathed in flames grabbed the other man by the collar and flung him at the fireplace, yelling a series of words in Bulgarian and wreathed the interloper in flames before the flames turned into bindings and sent them tumbling to the floor. Aleksander snarled, his eyes and hair wreathed in flames.

Another body came flying into the room, with Petya and Lazar close behind. Their target had an earthen gag placed over their face, and water bindings keeping them immobile.

The house was quiet. It almost seemed as though it were breathing. The soft, low, rales of the wind on the walls made the house seem more like the shrieking shack than the Dursley’s home.

A soft glowing light shot into the room in the form of an owl. “The house is clear,” Hermione’s voice announced.

Shortly after the message came, there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and only the message that the house was clear kept the people in the living room from leaping into action. The lights returned, and Severus, Hermione, and Draco walked in, tugging two stupified wizards by their collars as they floated in. Draco pushed them into the middle of the room.

Cerberus trotted in from the next room, dragging his “prey” under him like a deer. He dropped the attacking wizard and sat down, panting. The wizard was groaning, but alive, but his arm did not look like he would using it anytime soon.

“Alright,” Vernon said as he stared at the pile of incapacitated wizards in the middle of his living room floor. “We’ll go.”

Harry exchanged a weary glance with Kingsley and Alastor.

Kingsley nodded, and with a flurry of barked orders from Moody, the house became a flurry of activity.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione frowned as she looked into the cupboard under the stairs and saw exactly what Harry had told her so many years go.

“You… this was…” she murmured.

Harry put his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, but not anymore.”

Hermione looked at him and drew him into a tight hug.

The black-haired wizard looked at her warmly. “This is just a memory now,” he said sagely. “I’m glad I learned there was more to life than that.”

“Me too, Harry,” Hermione said. “Me too.”

“Looks like we moved to get them out of here just in time,” Harry said after a while. “I’m glad Moody suggested we do it tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “I think he’s going to be tracking down the leak at the Auror’s office. There were only a few that knew we were moving them that would have known it would be the last chance to get at them.”

“If the Dark Lord is convinced he needs to keep me alive, why attack my aunt and uncle?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “These weren’t Death Eaters this time. I am not sure what to think. Perhaps the Order of the Phoenix members know more. The ones with their ears to the ground out there. I’m sure they will be meeting soon after tonight.”

“And our own little Order of the Black Owl?” Harry said with a chuckle.

“You can bet on that,” Hermione answered with a grin.

There was the slam of one of the inside doors as Harry’s uncle stormed through the house with a suitcase rolling behind him. He glared at Harry as he paused in the hallway. “You happy now, boy?” Vernon said with disgust. “At least I can be glad that I won’t have to put up with your waste of space anymore after this.”

Hermione stiffened beside Harry, and she straightened her spine as the black seeped into her eyes. She glowered at Vernon with withering wrath before her controls slammed down over her emotion.

Vernon, who had never been one to bow to anyone, females most of all, interpreted her emotions as well as he interpreted everything else, and tilted his chin up to glare at her. “You think yourself some sort of heroine, girlie? Something special? Just a freak like him.”

“For someone who just narrowly escaped an attack, Mr. Dursley,” Hermione said with an absolute lack of emotion, “you are awfully blind to those who kept you alive.” She drawled her words much like her father was prone to do. She stood up to him, far more intimidating with her lack of affect than with emotion.

Vernon grit his teeth, his face twisting into something more ugly.

“He’s not a waste of space,” Dudley said as he came down the hallway, dragging a trunk behind him. “He and his friends saved our lives. It’s about time I… we…acknowledged that.”

Harry stared at Dudley like he’d grown a second head. He simply gaped at his cousin as Dudley squared his shoulder and blew by his father, tugging his trunk behind him.

Vernon gaped and sputtered at his son.

“You!” Vernon pointed at Hermione. “You’ve bewitched my son!”

Hermione’s lips quirked upward, taking Vernon even more off guard. “I have better things to do than to waste my magic on such petty things as your opinion of me.” She turned on her heels and swept the hallway, her black robes swirling around her legs.

Vernon looked like he was going to pick on Harry just to re-inflate his ego, but Harry only smirked at his uncle, turned his back, and walked down the hallway, leaving him alone.

Vernon, realising that he had nothing to stand on, pulled his luggage behind him as he walked out the front door to the car.

Within a few hours, the house was packed and loaded into the trailer behind Vernon’s car. Aurors had come in to assist with the removal of the attackers, and a handful remained to guard the packing and escorting off of the Dursley family.

Harry watched with amusement as the Bulgarians watch over the packing of boxes and moving of both trunks, boxes, and various furniture. They lifted not one finger to help. Harry knew exactly what they were waiting for: a simple request for help. The Dursleys were too proud to ask for help, and so the Sky Brothers simply stood around, assisting in guarding them, but doing nothing more.

Hermione stood with Severus, and Harry saw the subtle lean or her body against his, seeking comfort in his presence as she watched the reminder of what had happened only a few days previous with her own parents.

They had moved them under the cover of night to Australia, port-keying them into their new life, providing them new identities, and then, after a few hours of emotional preparation, the Grangers hugged their daughter goodbye, drank their potions, and went to bed.

They would wake in the morning as Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins. The potion, according to Severus, would last upwards of five years, unless reinforced. It was their hope that such an act would not be necessary.

Doctors Granger’s chest of identification and previous items and photos lay under a hidden stash under the house, protected by a time based not-notice-me spell. When the time came, they could reclaim their previous life, hopefully in a world where Voldemort was no longer a concern.

Hermione had been relieved that her birth parents had chosen to remember her in the end. She had worried that they would not have been willing to leave their place in Muggle society, but in the end, they respected their daughter enough to take the threat to their lives seriously. She had taken comfort in that.

Her parents had given her engagement to Viktor their full support, approving of the match and saying they looked forward to getting the invitation to the wedding, and both Hermione and Viktor had promised it would be done when the time came.

The Sky Brothers had charmed the Grangers with their manners and helpful demeanours. Sirius and Remus had charmed them with with stories of their more tame adventures of childhood. Draco had amused them with tales of Hermione and his fake “rivalry” in school. Tonks had entertained them with the changing of her face into different things, which the Grangers had found extremely fascinating. Mrs. Granger had held her hands to Tonk’s face as she did it, utterly enraptured by the sensation. Even Moody, who was by far the least charismatic or social of the forward guard, impressed the Grangers with his down to earth attitude and attention to details.

In the end, however, Mr. Granger shook the hand of Severus Snape, asking him to take care of his daughter, and something had passed between the Potion Master and the patriarch of the Granger family. There had been no doubt in Harry’s mind that Hermione had found ultimate peace in her biological father’s approval of Severus. Dr. Granger was the figurehead of her Muggle family and Severus Snape was the apex of her Wizarding one. And one day, years from now if all went well, her parents would be able to return to their old life, if they so wished. Regardless of what they chose, however, they would remember their daughter. It was enough.

Hermione was looking at him now, a small smile of understanding on her face. She was tired, but she nodded to him. The last remaining part of his biological family would be safe soon. They may be horrible people, but they didn’t deserve to be murdered or tortured to the point of Neville’s parents—not even Vernon, who definitely epitomised the very sense of a horrible person. Dudley, however, seemed to show a flicker of change in the right direction, and Harry briefly pondered what it would be like to at least stay in contact with his cousin one day… with something less than scorn.

It seemed, however, that the wait was over. The trailer and car were packed to the brim, his aunt was already begrudgingly sitting in the passenger seat, his Uncle was trying to squeeze himself into the drivers seat, and Dudley was standing on the lawn looking at the house with a different sort of expression.

Harry walked out to meet him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dudley said quietly. He looked up to the window of his old bedroom. “Hard to imagine not being here.”

Harry shifted awkwardly. “I imagine you have… better memories than I did.”

Dudley exhaled. “I suppose we didn’t really do you any favours there,” he said sombrely. “We didn’t deserve it, but you protected us tonight. It may not mean anything to dad, and mom may never admit it to your face, but it means something to me.”

Harry fidgeted. This version of Dudley scared him.

Dudley held out his hand to Harry. Harry opened his hand and Dudley dropped something in it. A small toy soldier fell into his palm. Once upon a time, it had been Harry’s favourite and only toy he was allowed and that was only because he hid it in the cramped cupboard under his mattress. One day, it had disappeared, leaving Harry heartbroken and toyless.

“I’m sorry for the things I did,” Dudley said, squaring his jaw. “I make no excuses for it.”

Harry stared at the toy soldier in his hand and clasped it tight. “You take care of yourself, Dudley. I’m… sorry you have to move.”

His cousin looked at him with a sadness about him. “I think of it as a new start,” he said, staring up at his old room. “A chance to be someone I won’t be ashamed to wake up being. I’ll be going off to college soon enough… and for once, I can be my own person.”

Harry looked at Dudley with a new understanding. He couldn’t think of anything overly witty or profound to say, so he simply nodded.

“Son, we’re going,” Vernon barked from the car, having finally squeezed himself into the overly stuffed car.

Dudley started to walk about, but he turned around after a few steps. “Maybe one day, when I have my own place, we can sit and have a conversation… like civilised people.”

Harry nodded dumbly. “I’d like that.”

Dudley nodded and walked to the car, stuffing himself into the backseat with great difficulty between the luggage and a mass of hanging garments on the hook above the door.

As the car and trailer and his relatives disappeared down the empty street, Harry looked down into his palm to stare at the toy soldier. Despite it all, Dudley had kept the soldier rather than toss it in to the fire or the trash like had so many other things of Harry’s over the years.

Perhaps one day, he and his cousin would be able to sit down and have a civilised conversation. Harry wasn’t so naive as to not believe in miracles. He was, after all, his own miracle to have survived to be the age he was.

Harry took in a deep breath and let it out slowly and saw Hermione, Draco, and Viktor walking towards him with sombre expressions, but their eyes were warm.

He was sharing a friendship with Draco Malfoy. Miracles, apparently, were his bread and butter of life.

Hermione hook him into a hug, dragging Draco and Viktor in with an oof. As her arms enfolded him, Harry knew he would take every miracle he was given, and one day, perhaps, he would tell his stories to his own children and gift them with their own miracles.

“Ready to go home?” Hermione asked.

“Severus, Moody, and Kingsley are staying behind to make sure the house has no traces,” Draco said. “They told the rest of us to scram. The forward guard is going to keep tails on your family and make sure they get to their new place.”

Harry smirked and nodded. “I am ready to go home.”

Hermione held out her arm, and Viktor, Draco, and Harry all put their hand around her wrist and arm.

CRACK.

They were gone.


	90. The Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and friends try to find the "crown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning taken from DH movie, because the scene was quite beautiful and tragic all on its own and didn’t need my help. :)

 

 _“Uneasy lies the head that wears the_ crown. _” - William Shakespeare_

**Chapter 90: The Crown**

“There’s not a person who’s alive that’s seen it,” Luna said. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? We’ll have to talk to someone who’s dead.”

Luna waited in the corridor as Harry approached the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw. She was youthful in her death, with sad eyes and a tortured expression of even greater sadness.

“Are you a friend of Luna’s?”

“Yes,” Harry answered. “She thought you might be able to help me.”

Helena stared at him in silence for a moment. “You seek my mother’s diadem,” she said.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “That’s right.”

“Luna is kind, unlike so many of the others, but she was wrong. I cannot help you,” Helena said, moving swiftly away.

“Wait, please,” Harry said, running after her. “Please… I want to destroy it!”

Helena stopped, hovering in the air.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it, Helena?” Harry reasoned. “You want to destroy it.”

“Another sought to destroy it many years ago. A strange boy with a strange name,” Helena said.

“Tom Riddle.”

“But he lied,” Helena said.

“He’s lied to many people,” Harry said.

“I know what he has done,” Helena seethed. “I know who he is. He defiles it! With Dark magic!” Her ghostly eyes were dark with her fury, and Harry knew had Helena Ravenclaw been alive, her magic would have been sizzling the air around him.

“I can destroy it, once and for all, but only if you tell me where he hid it. You do know where he hid it, don’t you Helena? You just have to tell me… please,” Harry pleaded.

“Strange,” Helena said. “You remind me of him.” The ghost moved around him, staring him down. Her face was haunted by her own painful memories.

Finally, she said softly, “It’s here… in the castle… in the place where everything is hidden. If if you have to ask, you’ll never know. If you know, you need only ask.”

“Thank you, Helena,” Harry said, meaning it.

The ghost floated backwards, a tragic and sorrowful expression upon her face. “Good luck, Harry Potter,” she said quietly as she faded into the castle brickwork and disappeared.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I’m glad she spoke with you, Harry,” Luna said, rocking back and forth as they stood in the Room of Hidden Things. Thousands and thousands of random objects surrounded them. All of the objects were stacked in seemingly even more random order, and it was hard to tell which way was up, down, diagonal, or even where the pathway was.

“Is that a stuffed troll?” Harry asked, staring into the room with disbelief.

“Looks like an ice troll,” Luna said casually, as if one would discuss a breed of dog in conversation.

Harry shook his head.

Neville popped in, shuffling in from the door. “Wow, this is a lot of… stuff.” His eyes flicked from pile to pile with wonder. “I got your message. What are we looking for?

“A crown of sorts,”Harry said. “Remember the picture of Rowena Ravenclaw?

“The diadem?” Neville gasped. “You’re serious?”

Harry nodded.

Neville looked at him with a bit of wonder. “Wow. Okay then. Anyone else coming?”

“Ron is with his parents visiting Ginny,” Harry said with a sad expression. “You’re the only one so far.”

“Where is Hermione?” Neville asked.

“Here,” Hermione’s voice said as she came out from behind one of the large stacks of random junk. “There are some really strange things in this room.” She held up what looked like a clock suspended in glass. Underneath the clock face, were four crystal and gold balls that seemed to spin around in one direction and then back towards the other.

“A pendulum clock!” Neville said excitedly. “My Gran had one! I used to sit and watch it spin when I was little.”

Hermione lifted her brow and passed Neville the clock. “All you, Neville. I don’t think anyone has missed it in years.

Neville looked excited and tucked it away in his robes after shrinking it down to better stow it away.

“Okay,” Harry said after a while. “I get the feeling it’s over here somewhere,” he said, gesturing in one direction. “I can’t explain why, but it’s a feeling. I have no idea where, so maybe if we split up and look around we can sort of, I dunno, divide and conquer these piles.”

Neville and Luna shook their heads in affirmative.

“Just… if you think you found it, don’t actually touch it. If he comes in box, then he should be safe to touch that, but be sure not to to touch the diadem,” Harry instructed. “There’s no telling if there is a curse on it or something equally… unpleasant.”

They broke off and started searching the piles, but the process was tedious, even with a general direction of where to look.

Harry walked around, trying to get a feel for where it was. Every so often he would hear it whispering, but when he turned, it would stop, almost if it knew he was trying to home in on it.

Hufflepuff’s Cup had been chatty in comparison, and he wondered if the diadem’s “personality” was, at least in part, the the protection Tom Riddle thought appropriate for the Horcrux.

“Harry,” Neville called.

Harry rushed over. “Find something?”

Neville pointed to the floor. “Yes and… no.”

Harry blinked and looked to the floor. An area had been cleared on the floor to make room for a sleeping mattress. There was a small table set up near the floor with things scattered on top—cups, plates, leftover food. “Someone… is living in here?”

Neville nodded. “Looks like it.”

Harry frowned. Who would want to live in a room filled with junk? Unless…

Harry gestured silently to Luna and Hermione, and the two shuffled over from where they were working over the junk. “I think we may have company in here, but I have no idea who or where they are. Neville found a mattress and such, and I think we all know how coincidence is rubbish.”

They nodded together. Hermione lifted her head, nostrils flaring, mouth parted slightly. There was movement around her neck, and Draco silently bit Hermione’s ear fanglessly to get her attention. She touched the coiled serpent with her hand. “Goyle,” she said after a moment.

“What?” Neville said.

Hermione shook her head. “He’s the only one that has been missing from the student population lately. Ever since…”

“Ever since the fight in the Great Hall,” Neville finished.

“Outstanding,” Harry said with a sigh. “Okay, we still need to find it, but let’s not split up. We can’t afford to be taken off guard. Two of us will search. The other two will guard. It will be slower, but I’d rather not any of us get bushwacked.”

They nodded.

Hermione sniffed the air experimentally. “Harry, perhaps you and Luna can do the searching. Neville and I will cover you.”

Harry nodded. “Sounds good.” He winced, touching his forehead. “This way, I think. Definitely this way.”

They clamoured over countless more stacks for the next couple of hours. Harry’s scar ached a little, and he would hear it whispering to him off and on. But just when he was ready to kick things over in his frustrating, the whispering turned loud and distinct.

“Harry,” he heard. It was an unnerving whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. He gestured with his hands that it was near.

Luna moved things around for him to inspect, and there was a strange scarf or cloth of some sort covering a wooden box.

Harry winced, reaching out towards it and slowly lifting the latch and then the lid.

The diadem shined from within. A shining blue jewel was set on the wings of an ornate raven. Shining gem drops hung for the tail and rimmed the wings. Script rimmed the bottom of the wings spelling out, “Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.” It was undeniably beautiful, yet the magic within it was twisted and wrong.

Harry frowned. He felt a profound sadness that objects from three out of the four founders of Hogwarts had been corrupted from their original purpose. “This is it,” Harry said softly.

Luna looked at it with wonder. “It’s so beautiful. I wonder what it was like to be Rowena Ravenclaw and wear that upon her head.”

Hermione looked at it with sadness. “It angers me that he would turn such piece of history into something so twisted and unnatural.”

Neville nodded. “It’s odd,” he said. “I see it, but, It doesn’t feel like it looks. Does that make sense?”

Harry nodded. “Oddly, yes,” he said with nod.

Harry closed the box and latched it, lifting it out of the surrounding junk. “We should get this to Alastor Moody. It needs to be with the other pieces.”

Neville looked thoughtful. “Do you see an end to this war?”

Harry furrowed his brows, tracing the box with his finger. “It’s close now. Can you feel lit? The wind feels different. I can’t explain it.”

Neville’s face was torn. “Mungos sent me an owl the other day. My parents… they responded to their name. For the first time in years… they said thank you to the nurses. They’ve never done that before. The healers… they are hopeful. They tell me not to make too much of it yet… they’ve had their ups and downs for years, but…”

“Neville, that’s amazing,” Harry said.

“It’s the change in the wind,” Neville said. “That was my sign. When this war is over—when I graduate—I want to stand in front of my parents and tell them that they have been avenged and have them understand.”

Luna put her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “You will, Neville, can’t you see? The zifferblans are with you.”

Neville made an odd face, but pulled Luna close to him. “Thanks, Luna.”

Luna looked at him warmly, no offence taken.

“Not to break up this gloriously sappy moment between you saps, but I think you have something I want,” a voice broke up the group. “Hand it over like a good little Gryffindor, and I won’t have to do something she’ll regret.”

The quartet spun to see Gregory Goyle, slightly dishevelled looking and with a wand stuck into some panicked first year’s throat, glaring at them malevolently.

“Accio wands! Now, now,” Goyle said, smirking as he pocketed the wands. “No sudden moves, or my friend here might have a problem.”

Harry exchanged glances with the rest of the group. They had the same anger and concern.

Goyle tutted. “Really, Potter, I have to give you credit. You led me right to the diadem when the Weaselette failed in to produce enough results stirring up the Ravenclaws to find it. Pity really. She kept you all nice and distracted while she was here. She let me in here after that little scuffle in the Great Hall. I knew it would only be a matter of time until you would lead me right to it.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Let the boy go, Goyle.”

“Aw, worried?” Goyle said. “How touching. Box, Potter. Very slowly.”

Harry felt a warmth around his hand and a slithering. The thrum of the pack bond sang to him softly, reassuring in the way the whisper from the Horcrux was not. Harry, very slowly, extended the box. Draco was draped around the box like an ornate lock, still as stone.

Be careful, Coils, Harry thought, saying a silent prayer that Draco didn’t get himself killed doing whatever it was he was doing.

Goyle took the box with a jerk, Draco and all, stuffing it under his robes into some hidden storage pocket. He jabbed his wand deeper into the boy’s throat.

“I did as you asked, Goyle,” Harry said. “Let the boy go.”

Goyle looked utterly smug as he stared Harry down. “Now, all of you, back up. Easy there…” He loosed his hold on the boy in his arms and kicked him towards Harry and the others, then kicked a pile of junk down to block the way, causing a chain of things to fall down, enclosing them with junk. “It would be a pity, if something happened to you, Potter. Tragic even, that your friends valiantly went to find you.”

Goyle dashed away.

Harry and Neville tried to shake the debris so they could escape, but it was locked together.

“Do you smell that?” Luna asked.

The first year that was trapped with them was starting to panic, crying.

Harry, Neville, and Hermione lifted their head and Hermione’s eyes darkened. “Fire.”

The first year was panicking even more.

The smell of the fire was increasing. Smoke was growing thick, and a dull roar was rising around them. Hermione looked upward, her eyes closed briefly, and after a moment she opened them again.

She ripped part of her robes. “Come here, child,” she said with a rumble, her voice taking on a different timbre. It was calm. Her eyes were black.

The first year came to her, eyes worried, but there was something in Hermione’s demeanour that demanded obedience and faith. “What is your name?” she said softly.

“Benjamin,” the boy whimpered. “Benjamin Sedwick.”

“Mr. Sedwick,” Hermione said softly. “I’m going to put a blindfold on you, okay? It’s important that I do so. It’s essential to get you out of here, okay?”

The boy nodded nervously. “Okay.”

“Be brave, Mr. Sedwick,” she said. “You are a lion. Let no one tell you different.”

The boy nodded nervously, but straightened his shoulders. Hermione placed the blindfold over his eyes and passed her hand over it, charming it to stay in place.

Hermione nodded to Harry.

Harry placed his hands on Neville and Luna. “Don’t freak out,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.

The flames were roaring around them, and Harry could see the rising doubt in their eyes.

Hermione fell on all fours with a roar, her body tense. She flared out her wings and burst through the scattered debris like a battering ram.

Neville looked like his eyes were going to bust out of his sockets and roll off into the room somewhere. Luna seemed to take the transformation in stride.

“That explains why nargles don’t hang around you,” she said as she climbed through the hole Hermione punched through the debris.

Harry jutted his head to Neville. “Get on, Neville.”

Neville looked a bit nervous. The gryphon may have been Hermione a few seconds earlier, but she was a gryphon! She was huge and scary and…

Hermione nipped Neville, slamming her head into him. Her eyes stared into him.

Neville scrambled on her back, slipping a few times. Hermione hunkered down to make it easier for him, and he used her folded foreleg as a step up to get onto her back.

Harry guided Benjamin Sedwick and hoisted him up behind Neville. Luna, the ever prepared for utterly random events, leapt onto Hermione’s back behind the wings, wrapping her arms around the boy and Neville, laying forward to help balance the load.

Harry stepped back. “Go!” he yelled.

“No! Harry, get on!” Neville yelled.

Hermione sprang forward, unfolded her wings, and leapt into the air as the flames rose around them as a giant serpent. It seemed to sense them now, it it was turning to meet them. Fiendfyre.

“Hermione!” Neville yelled. “Don’t leave Harry!”

“Neville, it’s okay!” Harry yelled at him, as Hermione beat her wings wildly and darted over the fires, carrying her cargo to the exit.

Harry could still hear Neville screaming at Hermione to go back and get Harry, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor fellow Gryffindor. He let his other shape fall upon him, and thanking Little Vik for all of his lessons on precision flying, the winged raccoon darted up and over the rising fire as the fiendfyre serpent’s mouth snapped the area he had just vacated. The roar of the angry fire rose, and Harry felt the flames licking the fur on his ringed tail.

Harry flapped furiously, darting faster through the stacks of items, trying to find the door in the smoke-filled haze.

He saw something that caught his attention, however. Two figures were fighting over a box from the top of a stack of junk overlooking the fire. Draco and Goyle. He darted closer.

“You filthy traitor!” Goyle was screaming. Neither of them seemed to have their wands as they struggled to climb as far up as possible. “I will kill you myself and send your head to the Dark Lord for his favour!”

Draco had a black eye were one of Goyle’s punches had connected, but Goyle was showing signs of Draco’s counter attacks. They wrestled together atop the junk even as the fire below them circled and began to rise to meet them.

Goyle kicked out at Draco, knocking him backwards. Draco loosened his grip on the box with the daidem in it to clasp onto a broken chair that was keeping him from falling into the fire below.

Goyle grasped the box with a yell of triumph, holding it above his head just as a fiery dragon head rose from the flames below and snapped down upon him with a roar of flames and the sound of Goyle’s scream.

As the flames took Goyle and the daidem into its merciless embrace, black half-human faces screamed in the smoke, and Harry felt a piercing pain in his scar as a blast knocked him antlers over wing into a nearby pile of refuse.

Draco had been blasted there too, and he clung to a wardrobe stacked at the top of the pile. He was coughing and losing his grip on the debris.

Harry shook off the stun of the blast along with the pain in his head. He couldn’t let it kill him now. He darted into the air and hovered over Draco. Draco looked at him desperately and flung himself into the air, shifting into his snake form.

Harry darted towards him for all he was worth, wrapping his hand-like paws around the falling Inland Taipan as well as locking his rear legs around him. His wings beat furiously, and he carried them both over the smoke and rising fire.

Harry saw the door, and saying a prayer to whatever Gods or Goddesses that favoured one exhausted and overtaxed winged raccoon, he beat his aching wings harder and harder.

Just a little more.

Just a little.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. It hurt to think.

Just a little more. The door was close. So close.

He pulled Coils to him, feeling his warmth and the connection to the Pack Song.

I am Harry the ringtail

My song is the song of pain.

May my wings carry my brother to safety

That none may hurt him again.

I am Draco the snake.

My song is the song of treachery.

May the loss of my once friend of childhood

Not be my final memory.

Harry struggled to remain aloft in the smoke and fire. The strain of keeping his flight was hard enough, but the lack of air was making it a struggle for life itself. To make matters worse, his scar was burning him through his mind, and he was feeling a burning agony of the body that had nothing to do with the stain to keep his wings pumping.

Suddenly, like a dragon bursting through the clouds of a high mountain, Hermione burst through the black smoke of the room. Her talons extended and clasped around Harry and Draco as she gave a loud scream of defiance to the fire.

Her talons wrapped around them like a blanket, and Harry new in that moment of contact that all would be well. His sister in all but blood had them. His packmate had them both. They would survive.

Hermione’s great wings cut through the smoke and fire, and the fire licked around her body, but she pushed on, carrying her precious cargo.

She shot through the open door as the fire roared behind her, and Harry vaguely registered both Severus, Minerva, and Remus standing at the door, wands out, and jets of water coming from their wands to barricade the door from the encroaching and chasing flames.

Hermione landed haphazardly, slamming into the ground and sliding on her side to prevent damage to Harry and Draco. Harry heard the cracking of bone and her bellow of pain, but she held them both close to her body, refusing to release them until they were safely away.

Neville and Luna ran towards them and Hermione’s talons finally loosen their vicelike grip upon him and Draco.

Harry changed while still draped by Hermione’s wings. Draco slithered quickly into his robes, hiding himself in Harry’s inner pocket before Neville and Luna saw him.

Harry struggled out from under Hermione’s great wing. Luna and Neville embraced him tightly.

“Thank, Merlin,” Neville said, breathing hard.

They embraced for a few minutes, happy to be alive.

Harry heard a low moan, and he quickly looked around. He turned back to Hermione, and fell to his knees. “Hermione.”

Hermione was human again, but her body was crumpled. Her breaths were pained and struggling. Her eyes stared off into the corridor and did not seem to see him. Her hands were clenched like half talons, and her black robes were sprawled across the floor like a shroud over her body.

“Hermione,” Harry repeated, touching her hand, afraid to touch her anywhere else, lest it hurt her.

“Harry,” she wheezed, her breaths sounded like burbles. Her eyes were half closed. “Father,” she whispered, barely audible. Her eyes drifted closed.

“Hermione,” Harry squeezed her hand. “Hermione!”

Little Vik was frantically head-bumping into her chin, her neck, and her hand, alternating between each to get a response. The more she wasn’t responding, the more frantic the little hippogriff became, chirping wildly to arouse his mistress.

Harry barely felt himself being dragged away from her as people gathered around Hermione’s broken form and swallowed her up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“She saved all our lives,” Neville said softly as he sat down beside Harry.

Harry stirred from his seat by Hermione’s bed in the hospital wing. Her chest was bound in tape after Pomfrey had worked on her, making her look like a mummy.

Little Vik was nestled next to her neck, having finally calmed down enough to settle beside her instead of wildly pacing up and across her shoulder and chest.

Pomfrey had said that Hermione would recover just fine, but she would need a great amount of rest to shake the effects of the smoke inhalation as well as the damage to her ribs she had cracked cushioning the fall for Harry and Draco.

She wordlessly seemed to question how Hermione had ended up injured at all, but after a discussion with both Minerva and Severus, Pomfrey seemed to accept whatever it was they told her.

She went over Harry, Neville, and Luna as well, making sure they hadn’t suffered any lingering effects, which to their relief, they were not.

Both Neville and Luna seemed to take Hermione’s secret surprisingly well. Luna seemed more worried about Hermione’s health than what she turned into, and Neville seemed to realised that what he had seen was not something to be shared to outside parties. Harry was relieved.

Severus glided in and sat beside his daughter’s bedside, a potion in hand. He woke her gently, just enough for her to take the potion a little sip at a time. He patiently held her head up and guided the potion to her lips. She drank it down slowly, eyes fluttering closed as he lay her back on the bed.

Severus’ eyes were inscrutable as he gazed at Harry, Luna, and Neville, who had taken it upon themselves to keep vigil at her bedside. He placed his hand against her forehead and pulled the blanket up over her, then silently exited, saying nothing.

Harry placed his hand over Hermione’s and then lay his head down on the side of the bed. The debriefing for what had gone down in the Room of Hidden Things would wait for later. Until then, this would be where he stayed.

As he turned his head to look towards Neville and Luna, he was both surprised and comforted that their expressions appeared to be much the same. They too would stay until Hermione was better.

It was some time later that Madam Pomfrey came by on her rounds and placed a blanket over Harry, Luna, and Neville, not bothering to shoo them out since it was past visiting hours. Sometimes healing required rest, a spell, or a potion, but she knew in this case, that friendship was a powerful healing motivator as well.

Pomfrey dimmed the lights and pulled the privacy screen over, smiled slightly, and left the three friends to watch over Hermione.

 


	91. Regrouping With the Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to destroy the Horcruxes.  
> Severus makes the ultimate sacrifice for the cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading one of my reviews that asked, basically, “why bother writing characters differently from JKR?” and I have to raise my eyebrow at this. (Severus style, of course, because he lifts the best eyebrows, after all.) If we didn’t alter some things, there would be no fanfiction. There would be no “what-ifs” there would be no cross-overs, different pairings, and a lot less original story out there. In real life, people have the potential to change because of one action that ripples down the line. What if stories are my favourite to write because they are fun, and I’d like to think the others who read my stories enjoy them because they share a bit of that enjoyment I have writing it.

 

**Chapter 91: Regrouping with the Order**

Hermione opened her eyes blearily, wincing as her chest ached from her ordeal. She focused on the familiar drape of her father’s robes as he waited with a flask of some potion or another. Vaguely, her mind saw the colour of it, and she knew it wasn’t a standard potion. He had made it for her, as he always did, without asking. He knew what she needed.

:Father,: she greeted him groggily in her mind.

:Must you be such a drama-monger, my daughter?: Severus asked with a warm mental voice that belied his words. He was relieved that she was awake.

:I learn from the best,: she replied tiredly.

Severus snorted audibly. :Ready for your healing potion?:

:Does it taste like dirt?: she asked warily.

:Grapefruit, actually,: he replied, eyebrow raising. The corner of his mouth quirked upward.

:I suppose I can handle grapefruit,: she replied, sitting up in the bed a little straighter.

Severus shook the flask, uncorked it, sniffed it, and held it for her. She drank it back in one go. He stared at her as if to evaluate her progress after she did so.

:Bless you,: she said after a while. :The pain doesn’t feel half as bad.: Her thoughts cleared enough for her to remember why she was there to being with. :The diadem?:

:Destroyed,: Severus answered. :Along with most of everything that was in the Room of Hidden Things. The room itself seems undamaged, but the contents within are lost forever.:

:Our wands were with Goyle,: Hermione said thoughtfully. :When he fell into the flames.:

:No,: Severus said with a chuckle. :Not really.:

Hermione furrowed her brows.

Severus held out what looked like a ripped out pocket with wand sticking out of it, placing it in Hermione’s lap. Her wand was sticking out of it. :A certain sharp-beaked flying ninja seems to have cut the entire pocket out and rescued them from Goyle’s robes before he met his unfortunate fiery demise. I did you the pleasure of giving your friends back their wands already.:

Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she tried to determine when Little Vik had completed this monumental task. She reached up to her neck and cupped the little creature in her hand and snuggled him mercilessly.

Vik chirped lovingly, but curiously, wondering what had earned him extra attention, but he wasn’t complaining. He ruffled his wings and leaned into her touch.

“You really are amazing,” she whispered to the little hippogriff. If she had learned anything in the past six years was that one did not question miracles when they were given, and she stopped trying to question how Vik had known, slipped away, and rescued their wands all while they had been trying to escape the flames. He had done it independently, without being asked. She scratched the hippogriff under the chin and he chirped lovingly, radiating contentment.

:The fiendfyre destroyed the Horcrux,: Severus said. :Alastor thinks that will be the key to destroying the others all at once.:

:The containment room, yes?: Hermione asked.

Severus nodded. :We will have a meeting over it when you are no longer tethered down to the ground by your injuries. When you are strong enough, we can move you back to the Lair, where some proper healing can occur… and your mate will stop pacing a hole into my floor.:

Hermione smirked, but couldn’t help but smile. She looked forward to feeling her Pack next to her again. It felt so alone sleeping in the Hospital wing without her Pack’s closeness. She found she was really missing one of Viktor’s grooming sessions. :I’ll be happy when all of this is over,: Hermione said after a moment, :and I can just curl up in a pile with those I love and not have to worry about Death Eaters sprouting out of the ground to kill me or my loved ones.:

Severus placed his hand over hers, and Hermione slipped her hand out to grasp his fingers tightly.

It was at this point that Harry stirred from his place by her bed and grunted, which in turn, started to wake Luna and Neville.

Hermione looked somewhat regretful as she pulled her hand away from her father’s touch, knowing that while her friends had taken her being a gryphon in stride, taking affection from Snape would probably go over less so.

She sent him warmth through their bond with her regret.

Severus nodded his head, putting his controls into place, wiping the tenderness off his face, and swept the hospital wing, his robes flickering behind him.

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione said softly as the mop-haired wizard looked at her with a combination of relief and weariness.

“Hermione,” Neville gushed. “Welcome back!”

Hermione had a warm smile for her friends despite it all.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry stuck his nose into the metal container curiously and ended up with flour all over his face and paws. He chittered, tried to clean his face, ended up sneezing, and then tipped the container over.

The flour container rolled down the counter and crashed down to the floor, and Harry froze, eyes wide, antlers covered in flour, and the makings of guilt dripping off his face.

“Argh!” Aleksander yelled. “Floured menace!” He snatched Harry by the scruff of the neck and gave him a swift boot to the rump out of the Black family kitchen. Aleksander cleaned up the flour and resumed his cooking for the upcoming meeting.

Little Vik was fluttering in front of Harry, his little wings vibrating like a hummingbird’s. He scolded Harry with a series of twitters and chirps while he carried a flask of something in his small claws, darting off into the corridors of the house to places unknown. Harry had to admire the little hippogriff’s energy level. His one experience with flying like everything mattered was enough for him, and he found he preferred casual flying and racing in the wind for no reason to be much more enjoyable than dodging fiendfyre and carrying a heavy snake at the same time. Well, heavy for him, anyway. Raccoons were not exactly built for transportation. Miniature hippogriffs, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind flying with or without carrying things.

Arms wrapped around his body, and Harry found himself being stowed under the arm. Luna held him against her like she would hold a cat, caressing his ears and back in much the same manner. Harry cooed softly, unable to contain his appeal to the entire situation.

“You’re looking very stately, Harry,” Luna said casually. “I bet you could hang ornaments from your antlers and frighten away nargles.”

Harry shook his head. Luna was probably the most accepting and yet completely bizarre witch he knew, yet he knew he could trust her like few others. Merlin knew, Harry himself hadn’t taken the discovering of just how many animagi had been around him for years without him knowing it as well as she did.

There was a knock at the door, and Luna immediately put Harry down, knowing he would make the shift as to not tip off those members of the Order of the Phoenix that were still in the dark about certain Animagi.

Legally, all of them were registered, but thanks to the new movement of Animagi regulating their own after Minerva’s work to change the system, such records were not for the public knowledge. Now, if someone suspected someone of abuse of an Animagus form, they policed their own and did it well, but a person could not just walk up to the registry office and stick their nose into a book, pick out an animal, and then go poking every silver tabby cat and accusing it of being an animagus. People were, of course, welcome to publicly disclose their Animagus status if they so chose. Minerva had said there were quite a few people who pursued the art strictly for either status or utility and did not care who knew. Others, like a couple in Norfolk, used their forms to serve as service animals in the Muggle world, finding lost children and sniffing out Muggle drugs. Harry had to admit he had the utmost respect for them for such selfless use of their forms.

It wasn’t to say that Harry thought the Pack’s use of their forms weren’t selfless, but the Norfolk couple were using them as service to Muggles, making themselves appear ordinary for the betterment of others. It was a very humble sort of role that was ultimately quite heroic. It was people such as those that were, in many ways, heroes.

Harry shifted into his human form in a smooth transition, practice having made perfect. Molly and Arthur came in, saying the Fred and George were taking up the guarding of Xenophilius at the Burrow. Molly still looked frazzled with worry, and Harry hoped that whatever was going on with Ginny was going more positively. Perhaps, with the plan with the latest of the Horcruxes safely stowed away in containment, the Dark Lord’s grip on Ginny would be lessened.

Luna shoulder bumped Harry with a smile. Her father’s safety seemed to give her a measure of peace and strength to face the future. If it were even possible, it seemed like she was more… grounded. Harry realised that was somewhat of a relative observation, but Luna was calm and happy instead of that grey area of being more distracted than usual.

The meeting for the Order of the Phoenix was getting crowded. There were two sections of it. The older members and those loyal to them that had had made up the core since the Order’s creation and the newer members that had been more recently active thanks to the good publicity.

Snape sat silently by the fireplace, his fingers steepled as he stared into it as conversation went up and down the table. Hermione sat beside him, staying close to him, partly out of loyalty and partly for the energy of the Pack. She wasn’t the only one, as the Pack seemed to sit together much as they did in the lair, sans the tendency to flop on each other when no one outside of it was looking. Hermione’s injuries after her flight to assist Harry as he rescued Draco from the fiendfyre were still tender.

Viktor kept contact with his mate with a silent and watchful eye, making sure he kept a touch on her whenever possible. She was still injured, and the Pack wanted her well again. Harry had to restrain himself from cuddling up to her and sharing his energy in front of others as well. His inner raccoon wanted to crawl into her lap and snuggle into her hands, partly to reassure himself as much as he to her.

Severus, stoic as always, showed no outward sign of wish for contact with his Apprentice, but to those that knew him, they did not miss the gentle leaning of Hermione against her Master. It looked perfectly innocuous, but there was so much more to the minute details than met the eye.

Debates went up and down the tables as people tried to figure out what was to be done now that all but one Horcrux was accounted for. It usually started with one imbecilic question and ended with Moody snapping insults at them to get their head out of their arse and pay attention.

Harry and Neville exchanged looks. Wasn’t that Snape’s job to yell at people like they were stupid?

There were a couple of the Order members that still pointed at Harry and his peers as being too young to be involved in Order matters, but it was strangely Molly Weasley that sent her trademarked glare of “you will sit down and eat your meatloaf and you will like it” down the table to say, “some of those ‘children’ have been saving our rear ends since before you even joined up with us, Fargus. They were subjected to torture under that toad of a woman Umbridge, and they saved my husband from death at the hands of that horrible snake. And while I do not like the fact that they are younger than I would prefer, I tell you that we weren’t exactly of age when the first war came knocking either.”

Snape’s eyes flicked across his touching fingers, his eyebrows furrowing. Molly was usually the first to complain that children had no place in the war, but perhaps her realising that her daughter had been an unknowing conduit to the Dark Lord’s will since she was eleven had changed some of her ideas of when innocence was lost.

After much grumbling, arguing, and idea throwing, Moody and most of the elder members decided it was time to see about destroying what they had.

“Now that the diadem has been destroyed, he’s going to be trying hard to find where have them,” Tonks said. “We really can’t accord to be sitting on them right now. If his desperation gets bad enough, he may find a way to infiltrate. We’ve been lucky so far…”

“True,” Moody agreed. “So far, no hint of breaches in the containment network have even hit the grid. Our agents, as far as we know, have not been compromised.”

“Who has access to the grid to know if it has been touched?” Arthur asked.

“Dumbledore, myself, and Shacklebolt,” Moody said.

“Well Dumbledore is off vacationing in the East Andies, so that’s moot,” Molly said.

Tonk’s lifted her head at Molly. “East Andies?”

Molly shrugged. “Dumbledore. Who knows where the man goes on holiday.”

Tonks stared at the table, her hair shifted into a dark purple.

“No time like the present, people,” Moody grunted. “Let’s get this over with. The last thing we need is the resident Dark Lord getting his hands on his giant snake and Horcruxes all in one fell swoop.”

Murmurs of agreement went down the table.

Moody barked orders for some of the newer members to run distractions throughout their social networks so the rest of them could gather en mass to the containment area. He wasn’t sure what would happen when the flames took the Horcruxes, but he wanted the main group of combat ready wizards and witches ready to tackle whatever might happen.

By the time Harry even realised the meeting was over, most of everyone had already vacated.

Viktor was kneeling beside Hermione with concern, his hand on her knee. “Are you ok to come?”

“I’ll be fine, Viktor, do not worry,” Hermione said softly, leaning into him.

“Job to vorry about mate,” Viktor said softly. “Last time I left you alone, you tried to set yourself on fire.”

“I’ll have you know, I was trying NOT to be set on fire,” Hermione scoffed.

Viktor smiled at her. “I vorry. Leave fire to Aleksander, da?”

“I will try, love,” Hermione said warmly.

Viktor touched her cheek. “Look forward to end of var. Can spend more time with you without vorrying about… everything.”

“Just some things?” Hermione chuckled.

“Indeed,” he answered her. “Tings like… where ve get married and how many people mother invite before it get embarrassing.”

Hermione choked and smiled. “I’m glad I’m leaving it to her. I don’t even want to think about invitations.”

“No?” Viktor said cheerfully. “Who vould you invite dhen?”

“The Pack,” she answered with a sniff.

“Dhat it?” Viktor chuckled.

“Does anyone else matter?” Hermione chuckled.

Viktor slid his finger down her nose. “I tink some people vould want invitation other than Pack, Her-my-own.”

“Fine,” Hermione huffed. She winked at him.

Viktor helped her to her feet, holding her in a hug before releasing her. They walked to the floo with Severus and disappeared on their way to the Ministry.

Neville nudged Harry in the ribs. “Hermione’s getting married?” he squeaked.

“Of course she’s getting married,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “Where else would the baby simurglets come from?”

Harry froze.

Neville looked utterly baffled. “The wha?”

Luna gave a gallant shrug as she walked to the floo. “Simurglets, Neville. Do keep up.” She disappeared into the floo.

Neville looked at Harry.

Harry looked at the ceiling. How the hell was he going to explain simurglets to Neville?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The containment room was strangely calm, and Hermione was exceedingly happy to see that everything was still in place, including her “friend” Nagini.

The serpent was coiled in suspended animation, floating in the vapour of ether that seemed to seep up from the stone. Hermione curled her lip, remembering her fight with the giant snake.

The Pack gathered in a cluster in the area outside the containment, watching Moody check the placement of all the items.

“Tonks,” Moody grunted. “Check to make sure there aren’t any traces for when the outer wards go down.”

“Aye, Capt’n,” she saluted, taking out her wand and waving it around methodically.

Severus’ mental touch warmed her, and she looked up into his eyes, feeling his silent concern for her.

:I am fine, my Master,: she said softly into his mind.

:Forgive a father for worrying,: he replied gently.

Hermione leaned into his robes, snuffling his scent for comfort. She felt his amusement even though his expression did not change. She did the movement subtly, keeping herself hidden from Moody’s regard and the other non Pack wizards and witches that were gathered in waiting to assist with “whatever came” after the fires took the Horcruxes.

The rest of the Pack did much of the same, though perhaps not as often as Hermione. Viktor leaned up against him as he walked by, pressing his nose to Severus’ robes as he moved to look over the containment room. Remus placed a hand upon his shoulder as he passed, and the Bulgarians hugged Hermione one by one as they formed a loose circle around her.

“You okay, Harry?” Hermione asked, breaking off from Severus to touch his shoulder.

Harry nodded to her. “I feel like I’m waiting for the other foot to drop. Only… I have no idea whose foot it is or if it’s the foot of a giant or a mouse.”

Hermione smiled at him. “We’re almost there, Harry. Almost the end.”

Harry nodded, looking over to where Neville and Luna were gazing at Nagini.

Neville shuddered. “That is a really big snake.”

Luna tilted her head. “It must be crowded inside there,” she said randomly. “The soul of a snake and the partial soul of a man who believes he is one.”

Hermione shook her head. Luna was always one whose words often held a sort of wisdom in the midst of the bizarre. Sometimes it was hard to tell which part was the wisdom and which was the bizarre. Hermione was betting that it was often one and the same.

“Alright, ready yourselves,” Moody snapped, and the gathered all came to alertness. Alastor walked out of the containment area and traced a pattern on one of the wall bricks. There was a flash as the outer wards came down, leaving only the middle of the room guarded.

Alastor stood out in the corridor, pulled out a rock from his jacket, and flicked it into the middle of the room.

BOOM!

Fire roared out from the middle of the containment room, formed into the shape of a beastly maw. The jaws went wide as it engulfed the room with its ire, surrounded the Horcruxes its merciless embrace.

As the fire wreathed the great snake, there was a sound like a scream, then another, and another, as black billowing smoke rose up from the fire, but it was not the fire’s smoke they gazed upon. It was the burning soul fragments of Tom Riddle, screaming at once as the fire destroyed it all.

Harry cried out, clutching his head, screaming out in pain as he fell to his knees.

“Harry!” Neville cried, reaching out to touch him.

Harry slapped his hand away and stood up. His eyes were red, his face twisted in something that looked inhuman.

“You think this changes anything?” Harry hissed, his voice was twisted into something more like a snake. “I will never be defeated. I. Am. Immortal!”

Harry’s face twisted in a snarl. “My loyal shall rise both at the Ministry and at Hogwarts. You will all. Die. Horribly.”

Moody was yelling orders to the gathered to hurry up the tunnel and fight above in the Ministry and save the innocent from the Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathisers.

“How do we know who to hex?” One of the wizards asked in a panic.

“Hex the ones trying to kill people!” Moody snapped. “Go!” He followed after them, turning only to see Snape shoo him off. He scurried up the tunnel, cursing.

Snape summoned a circle around Harry and the Pack gathered around him. “Fight it, Potter,” he said. “Fight him.”

“I see you, Severus,” Harry’s sneered. “It’s time to come back to the fold.”

Severus hissed, hold his burning arm.

The Pack Song, however, began to sing in their heads. They stood around Harry, linking their bodies and their will together with their wands.

“Fight it, Harry,” Hermione pleaded.

“Fight it!” Neville and Luna added.

“Remember us, Harry,” Remus said.

“You can do it, Harry,” Sirius encouraged.

“Don’t let him win, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said.

Severus fought the burning and the compulsion of the Dark Mark, sweat coming down his face as the pain rose.

Harry snarled and lunged forward, but the ward Severus had placed caused him to bounce back from the circle.

The Pack linked hands around the circle. Neville looked startled as they pulled him in. Luna took hands as naturally as breathing. The Pack Song rose between them, both silent and deafening in a paradox that seemed to take the Dark Lord by surprise. This was a magic that he could never understand. They had a bond that was stronger than fear.

 

_I am the gryphon of Fate._

_My enemies fall to my claws._

_Rage protects me and my allies,_

_And no evil may give me pause._

_-o-o-_

_I am the simurgh and the soldier._

_I lead so my comrades need not._

_My magic is the sword of precision._

_My fangs and claws can never be bought._

_-o-o-_

_I am the fires of wrath._

_I burn my enemies to ash._

_None stand to the fires of retribution,_

_And none to my fury may last._

_-o-o-_

_I am the rage of the tempest._

_My water brings both life and death._

_I nurture the wounds of my allies,_

_And scald my enemies breath._

_-o-o-_

_I am the thunder of earth._

_My rage is the quake of the ground._

_My anger swallows my enemies,_

_And leaves no trace to be found._

_-o-o-_

_I am the merciless cyclone._

_My winds carry my enemies away._

_My core fills the lungs of of my allies_

_And brings my enemies dismay._

_-o-o-_

_I am venom of the serpent._

_My friends are hidden and vast._

_No enemy may see me in waiting,_

_And once seen their time has been past._

_-o-o-_

_I am guile of the feline._

_On four silent feet I do stalk my prey._

_My enemies will not see me coming,_

_Until I do take them away._

_-o-o-_

_I am the howl of the Pack family._

_My song is the beacon of Home._

_I do not need the company of werewolves,_

_To stifle the need to roam._

_-o-o-_

_I am the companion on four legs,_

_Who often lies at your feet._

_My song is the one of companionship,_

_And together our hearts they beat._

_-o-o-_

_I am the silence of wing beats_

_Carried in the darkness of night._

_Death comes by the grip of my talons,_

_As my enemies struggle without sight._

_-o-o-_

_We are the Pack of Black Lake._

_We follow the will of the Black Owl._

_Our hearts are one in the union,_

_And our loyalty sings in our howl._

_-o-o-_

_We are the Pack of Black Lake,_

_Our hearts are one and the same._

_Let none threaten our number,_

_Lest only our ire they gain._

_-o-o-_

_Hear us, oh Harry the Ringtail._

_You, your heart, are with us as one,_

_None may tear you asunder,_

_And steal from you what you have won._

_-o-o-_

_Sing the soul of our Pack Song._

_Glory in the joy of our hearts._

_Howl the glory of our unity,_

_And join in the sum of our parts._

_-o-o-_

_You are Harry the Ringtail._

_Your song is of perseverance and love._

_Love for your friends and your family,_

_And love is what carries you above._

_-o-o-_

_Join your song to us Harry the Ringtail._

_Soar in the skies as you’d run on the earth._

_Sing to us of your victories,_

_And glory in all that you’re worth._

_-o-o-_

_Harry, my friend and my brother._

_To you, who once lived under the stairs._

_I call you back to my side as your sister,_

_And all my love I do declare._

_-o-o-_

_Harry, the son of my best friend,_

_Whose time with you was short but true._

_I call to you with love I had for him,_

_Because in you, he lives anew._

_-o-o-_

_We are the Pack of Black Lake._

_We call you to our side once more._

_Shun the darkness inside you_

_For it is the darkness you abhor._

 

Harry let out a soulful scream of agony as dark vapour spewed forth from his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. His body spasmed, his arms spread outward as his body rose into the air on its own and it looked as though he were to fly without wings.

Every member of the Pack reached in had their hands upon his chest. A flash of blue energy collected with their touch, spreading across his body.

 

_Harry, oh Harry the Ringtail._

_We call you back to our Song._

_Renounce the tie to the Dark Lord,_

_And put right to that which was wrong._

 

Harry let out a baleful howl that seemed born of agony and rage. The blackness poured out of his body as he convulsed, and then fell to the floor on all fours. His body was shaking and drenched with sweat.

 

_I am Harry the Ringtail._

_My song is the Call of the Pack._

_It is to them I owe my allegiance,_

_And to them, I shall always come back._

 

_We are the Pack of Black Lake._

_And Tom Riddle we banish your claim._

_May none who call you Dark Lord or Master,_

_Ever do so again._

 

There was a roaring in the air so loud that they winced in pain, but they did not leave Harry’s side.

Alexsander went to his knees, drawing out a circle around them all with his wand, and then blew on the top of his wand to create a wave of fire that spiralled around them and circled around the looming cloud of blackness that was forming into a inhuman face with slit-like nostrils.

Lazar did the same, only a water bird flew from his wand and swirled around the curling flames. Valko followed, a swirl of rising earth formed around their feet. Petya slammed his hands down on the ground, his wind carrying the earth up to join with the fire and water.

Remus tilted back his head and howled. It was baleful, wrathful, and pure. Hermione let out a piercing eagle scream. Viktor bellowed a roar that vibrated in the air.

Minerva pointed her wand up and incanted, “Expecto Patronum!” and a sleek cat Patronus wove itself around the swirling elements, adding the element of spirit to join with fire, air, water, and earth.

Severus was suddenly standing on the outer ring of the magical whirlwind. His face was expressionless as he lifted his arms up like a measuring balance, palms up.

 

_I am Severus the owl,_

_And through me these elements combine._

_I banish you with the pain of my agony,_

_And sever your bond throughout time._

 

Severus clapped his hands together over his head, and there was a flash of light so intense that all around closed their eyes to keep from being blinded. There was a roar that filled the room and a thunderous crash. Wood from the support beams around them cracked and creaked. Stone and grout from the ceiling shuddered and rained down upon them all.

As the light faded, the air itself seemed lighter and more breathable. The corridor seemed less gloomy and stale.

Harry breathed raggedly in the centre of the circle the Pack had created around him. Sirius and Remus touched his arms, nodding to him silently in their welcome and relief.

“Harry,” Neville croaked. “Your scar!”

Harry touched his forehead automatically, his fingers running across his skin. His skin was smooth and unblemished. He patted his head a little frantically as if expecting it to return like a joke from the Weasley’s shop. His scar was gone. Voldemort was out of his head… he could feel it, or rather not feel it. He looked over to Hermione.

Hermione was crawling over to her Father and Master who had slumped to the ground. “Master,” she whispered, clinging to his black robes as though to pull him back from the edge of death with her will alone. She made a low moan in her throat.

Suddenly it was clear what Severus had done. He had made himself the conduit of all the elements and used his link via the Dark Mark to channel it all back towards the Mark’s creator. He had sacrificed himself to insure the connection between Harry Potter and Voldemort was forever broken. All of their combined power, that had purged the broken shard of Tom Riddle’s fractured soul, had then backlashed their combined magic through the Dark Mark and back to the Dark Lord.

Severus gave a ragged breath as Hermione clung to him. His hand touched her bushy hair, ever so gently brushing it back with his palm like so many times before.

“Father!” Hermione shook his body. “No. No!”

“Daughter,” he whispered, his black eyes met hers, a tear trickling down his cheek.

“No!” Hermione shook him. “Stay with me. Stay with us. Father! Severus! Master…” She pleaded with him, begged him as her hands stroked his face, his hair, his chest. She rubbed her head against him as she had so many times since they had become one in mind and magic.

A hundred thousands touches, small looks, scent, curt words that meant so much more than what they said, and the warmth of his embrace—all of those things—came to her in a shared look of everything Severus had become to her. Everything that was breaking inside of her as she realised that her Father and Master was at the end of his tether to life.

“There will be a time, Miss Granger,” Severus had once told her. “When I will not be there to guide your path. All of this that I teach you, will prepare you for that day.”

Severus’ hand clasped Hermione’s as his eyes looked deep into hers, and his body went limp.

“No.”

“Hermione… he’s gone.”

No!”

“Hermione…”

“No! I will not let you have him. I will not! I will not!” She pulled a vial of golden liquid out of her robes and unstoppered it, forcing it to his lips and stroking his throat to make him swallow it.

Hands were trying to pull her back, and she beat them off.

Hermione Granger the witch had nothing else to give but grief, but Hermione Granger the Muggle-born had parents who had insisted she learn two things during the summer years past: the Heimlich manoeuvre and CPR… and she would be damned if she didn’t put it to use.

Hermione placed her hands over each other and positioned them over Severus’ sternum and centred her weight and centre of gravity over him. “One… two… three… four… five…” she continued until she reached thirty and then pinched his nose and blew into his mouth twice. She continued to pump his chest, hearing the dull crack of his ribs as she did so, and not caring. She kept going. “Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.” She blew into his mouth again. Once… Twice.

_I am the gryphon of grief,_

_My song is the song of my father,_

_He is the heart of our Pack Song,_

_Pray, do not leave us in tatters._

 

She continued as sweat dripped down her face. She continued as her arms started to feel like jelly. She breathed into him as though it were the only thing that mattered. Her knees ached where her weight pounded mercilessly into her knee bones, arms, and shoulders.

Cough.

Severus gave a couple of strained coughs, and only then did Hermione stop her merciless pounding on his chest.

“S…stupid girl,” his voice said hoarsely, his hand went to her head and pulled it to him.

Hermione wept into his chest, sobbing.

“Insufferable know-it-all,” he breathed into her ear. “Won’t even let me die in peace.”

Hermione clung to his robes, soaking them in her tears. :Father,: she poured all of her love and relief into the word directly into his mind.

His left hand fell to the floor as he caught his breath, wincing slightly from his bruised ribs. :Daughter,: he whispered his reply into her mind. He soothed her as she clung to him even though it was he that had just come back from the brink of death. He didn’t care at that moment who saw.

“Hermione!”

Hermione didn’t want to move.

“Hermione look!” Harry’s voice was insistent.

“Merlin,” Minerva’s voice said in amazement.

Hermione pulled her head up slowly, eyes puffy and her vision blurry. She looked to where Harry was pointing.

Severus’ bare arm was exposed for all to see.

The Dark Mark was gone.

He was free.

His Pack descended upon him like a tide, carrying him to safety as both relief and exhaustion claimed him at once.


	92. It's Been a Long Time, Tom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Voldemort meets up with someone he's been avoiding for a few decades.

Chapter 92: It’s Been a Long Time, Tom

 

Tom Riddle, the reigning Lord Voldemort, was not having a good day, night, or week. Shortly after the loss of his Horcrux, which he had thought safely hidden away at Hogwarts, all of his other Horcruxes had been destroyed simultaneously. The agony of that particular event had sent him to his knees in the middle of Malfoy Manor’s dining room in front of his remaining Death Eaters. He had recovered enough to send most of his Death Eaters to swarm the Ministry using the hacked floo they had been saving for just such an occasion.

Voldemort had felt his connection to Harry Potter anew. He felt his life force entwined with the boy’s, and he knew what the prophecy had meant. He had created his ultimate Horcrux in the boy. As long as the boy lived, so did he. As long as Harry Potter lived, he was immortal.

Voldemort extended his presence to the boy, wrapping the tendrils of his mind around his, forcing his awareness into the boy’s mind, ripping past his mental shields that had been blown open thanks to the other Horcruxes being destroyed. It was all Voldemort needed to grasp a hold into his most recently discovered tool. He would rebuild. He would use Harry Potter to kill or corrupt his friends to his service, and that elusive Albus Dumbledore would lose his little toys he had pit against him since Tom Riddle shed his old name and rose as Lord Voldemort.

Where was the coward now? He hadn’t shown his face for most of the year. Was he truly on sabbatical somewhere in the world, perhaps trying to find a way to counter his Horcruxes? It was no matter. He would make more Horcruxes. He would never die. Murder was nothing hard for him anymore. He would kill anyone who stood in his way to his bloody throne… and he would start with the girl who had captured his beloved Nagini. He couldn’t kill her, no, not when Severus was so useful. He would force his Mark upon her flesh, bend her to his service, and then then make her into his next Horcrux, turning her against her Light following friends and insure that Severus would never be able to consider leaving his service.

Severus. He sensed him there with the band that was destroying his Horcruxes. His mind, as usual, as blank as it always was, waiting for his command. Good. He would call upon him soon.

Voldemort smiled. He would use Severus to corrupt his little Apprentice and turn her to the Dark. She would either be corrupted fully or hate herself. Either pleased him. Either path would end the same. He would defile her purity by branding her with his Mark, and torture her friends by making her a target that had to be destroyed. It would be perfect.

He yanked on the strings he used to control Harry Potter and threw him at his friends in the attack. Perfect. He could not be killed easily, thanks to being a Horcrux. It was ideal. Once Harry murdered his little friends, Voldemort would force him to come to him and then lock him away where he would be protected.

Voldemort summoned his faithful and servants and apparated to the edge of the wards of Hogwarts. They would barrage the outside of Hogwarts while his sleeper faithful would tear apart the school from within. All it would take is seeing the Dark Mark in the sky to set them off, and the goodie goodie little students that no one suspected would become assassins. He licked his lips, flicking his tongue like the serpent.

“Raze the towers! Break the shields,” he yelled. “Leave nothing left for Dumbledore to come home to!” He summoned the Dark Mark in the skies, the snake wove out of the skull’s mouth as a keening sound went through the night air.

All of his minions were firing upon the school, but the towers did not fall. Nay, their wands attacks were slamming into a dome shield around the the castle, like glass around a snow globe. Apparently the Deputy Headmistress was on her toes and had rallied the professors to shield the school.

It didn’t matter. Glass could be broken.

Fighting was going on inside Hogwarts. He could see the flashes of magic from within. His agents were causing the chaos they were programmed to do.

Apparation signalled the arrival of his allies, and he smiled smugly as the vampires arrived to take their place in his army. Once the shields came down, they would feast, and the vaulted Wizarding school would be theirs.

He felt an odd tremble in the tendrils around his last remaining Horcrux. Something was fighting his influence. The boy? Surely he wasn’t that strong. Voldemort sent pain down the tendrils of his influence to subjugate him better. No, something else was fighting him back. It was a strange vibration that resonated within the boy and was strengthening him against Voldemort.

This would not do at all. He snarled, sinking his hooks in deeper. Kill them. Kill your pathetic Light-loving friends. The murder would weaken the boy against his influence, and he would be ready to mold him into exactly what he wanted.

But the strange resonance was growing. He saw Potter’s friends surrounding him, their face were staring into him with a strength he could not understand. He was the Dark Lord. His will was the only thing that would be victorious. How dare they defy him!

He remembered Severus was there with the pawns of the Order.

“Time to come back to the fold, Severus,” he hissed, calling upon his Dark Mark to demand his attendance. He felt his servant’s pain and smiled as it fed him pleasure.

The strange fight in Harry Potter, however, was not waning. It was growing. He was writhing in his grasp like a trapped animal. He was clawing at Voldemort’s will. Voldemort channelled all of his venom and hate into the boy, demanding his submission and forcing him to obey.

But Harry Potter was not.

Voldemort staggered as Harry stood up to his onslaught and tore the Dark Lord’s tendrils off himself. He bared his mental teeth at him, and threw him out with a flood of something so molten it burned the Dark Lord’s mind. What was this force he was using to drive him out? What power was pouring out of Harry Potter.

I am Harry the Ringtail.

My Song is the Call of the Pack.

It is to them I owe my allegiance,

And to them, I shall always come back.

What was this? Voldemort tried to send his influence back over the boy. He was his Horcrux. He must obey! He flooded the boy with his will, feeling him scream in pain, and he smiled in satisfaction.

We are the Pack of Black Lake.

And Tom Riddle we banish your claim.

May none who call you Dark Lord or Master,

Ever do so again.

Voldemort staggered. A violent force had just pushed him out of Harry’s mind. He centred himself. Severus was still there. He could use his servant to subjugate the boy. He opened the Mark between them, sending his will towards his servant.

I am Severus the owl,

And through me these elements combine.

I banish you with the pain of my agony,

And sever your bond throughout time.

Pain. Fire. Ice. He was thrown to the ground. He felt like he was on fire and freezing to death. He was drowning. He could not breathe. All at once, it was like every element was being forced down his throat and all it wanted to do was burst from his body from any and every exit possible, even if it had to burst a hole of its own to do so.

Voldemort screamed as vapour-like light, tendrils of ether that drove away Dementors, spewed from his mouth, his nose, eyes, and ears. The Dementors that had been lurking above them, floating in to wait for the shields around Hogwarts to fall so they could attack, fled from Voldemort’s army, refusing to get near the light-bearing vapour that spewed forth from their Dark Lord.

Voldemort was wracked with agony and remembered what it was like to murder his first victim. The agony of having his then perfect soul torn into separate pieces and forced into his first Horcrux was revisited upon him.

“Killing rips the soul apart. It’s a violation against nature,” Horace Slughorn had told him.

But, in the end, the agony had been worth it. He had been protected from Death. He would keep on making them until he was back to his fateful number of seven.

Voldemort cried out in a pain that made the Cruciatus seem like a tea party. He was being ripped apart by a thousand hands. Desperate to ease the pain, he channelled the pain out to those that had his Mark, forcing his minions to take the pain for him. What better use for them, after all.

The Death Eaters around him fell to the ground screaming. They fell to their knees and then fully to the ground, twitching. He had never prepared his minions for enduring such pain. He did it on purpose so when he tortured them they would suffer as he wanted them to suffer. Now, they all fell to the ground in the utmost angry.

Suddenly the vampires were on the move, but as Voldemort expected them to go forward to sow their discord as was expected of the Dark Army, each vampire sank their fangs into every nearby human member of his army, feeding upon the writhing minions.

Screams were calling from around him between the torture of the pain he was forcing them to take for him and the attacks by hundreds of merciless vampires who had somehow decided dinner was right in front of them.

What was left of his Army was now fleeing in the night blindly, but as each fleeing Dark wizard, witch, or werewolf attempted to flee into the Dark Forest, an arrow shaft buried itself into their chest up to the fletching.

Centaurs. An entire herd of angry warrior centaurs, bows pinned backwards and arrows flying as they picked off fleeing Dark Wizards and Witches. For every arrow one lucky person may have deflected, twenty more met their mark. The centaur were wrathful. Those that were not shot with arrows were trampled under hoof, the cries of the victims were drowned out by the beating of countless hooves and angry equine screams.

As Voldemort lay gasping on his back, a shadow passed over him. Dark robes hung from the figure above him. Pale white skin shone in the moonlight.

“Hello, Tom,” the voice was both velvet and venom.

The figure, oblivious to the fight around them, pulled up a stump and sat upon it. “You’ve avoided my grasp for decades, child. It is time you came to terms.”

“Desmondon,” Voldemort hissed.

The pale and unearthly countenance stared back at him impassively. “One name of many. One face of many. That one will do.”

“You were to attack Hogwarts, not your allies,” Voldemort wheezed.

“I told you from the start, Tom,” Desmondon rumbled, his posture so still he was like a statue. “I await the end of the war to feed upon the losing party. You assumed, as most do, that the winning side would be yours.”

“You could not have known,” Voldemort grunted painfully.

Desmondon took a breath, as if for his benefit. His pale talon-like hands stroked his chin as if to stroke an invisible beard. His face was inhuman, feral, and seemingly carved of stone. “It is true, that often the winners and losers change. I could have, just as easily, set my cloud upon those below as much much as those here. But this time, I knew.”

“How?” Voldemort spat. “How would you have?”

Desmondon smiled, and it was a cruel smile. His lips pulled back from his teeth, exposing even crueler fangs. “My children are down there, Tom. One by choice and the other by birth and choice. They were destined to bring me deaths, as they were destined to bring me you at last.”

“Impossible,” Voldemort grunted, blood trickling from his mouth. He coughed. “Vampires cannot have children, only other vampires.”

Desmondon’s black eyes fixed Voldemort with pitiless regard. “You astound me in your lack of knowledge for one who claims such a bond with the Dark. I suppose it cannot be helped. You are, after all, a man with only so much time borrowed against the hourglass.”

“I will live on,” Voldemort grunted. “This body is nothing.”

“Do you feel that, Tom?” Desmondon said, pointing his finger skyward. “Your hold over the boy is gone. Your hold over my child is gone. You have nothing left but a tattered soul so fractured that no vampire could turn you, and no path remains for what is left. There is only a shell of you left. Crumpled, bloody, and too weak to save.”

“You’ve spent so much of your life running from me, Tom,” Desmondon said. “You could have been out there, living a an entire life, but instead you chose a fractured life. You chose this end, and in this end, some seventy years later, your life was no longer than the Muggles you so despise.”

“Who are you to judge, vampire,” Voldemort coughed. His hand was on his wand. “Avada Kedavra!”

Desmondon smirked as the green beam hit him in the face and dissipated. He steepled his fingers together, drumming them together as if contemplating Life’s mysteries. “Did that make you feel better, Tom?

Voldemort’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

“Do you know what happens when someone with a fractured soul tries to become a vampire?” Desmondon asked casually in the same tone one would would discuss the weather.

His fangs flashed cruelly. They were opalescent in the moonlight and as pure white as the blood around him was crimson. He was on Voldemort with a flash of movement so quick that it was impossible to see.

Desmondon pulled back after a moment and sank his fangs into his hand, letting his own dark blood drip down. He slammed his hand into Voldemort’s mouth, forcing the dark sanguine blood down his throat. Voldemort choked as the blood went down his throat.

Desmondon was on him again, his fangs sinking into his throat from the other side, this time, he hit the artery, and he drank deeply, pulling away only after Voldemort’s struggles began to grow weak.

Blood dripped from Desmondon’s mouth, and he didn’t even bother to wipe his face. “I will leave you here, Tom. To be found by your enemies. And one day, I will visit you, when all those that knew you are dead, and your name is but a thing of stories to warn young wizards what it is to defy Death.”

Voldemort was shuddering, unable to pull himself up from the ground. “W…ho are you?” The Dark Lord stared at Desmondon with no comprehension of how his life had taken such a turn so fast.

Desmondon stood to his full height and stepped back. He glared into the dark of night, and his vampires faded into the night like ghosts, leaving them alone. Desmondon’s robes seemed to lengthen as he grew taller. His black curtain like robes became like tattered shrouds. His fingers lengthened into skeletal hands, and his face became truly skeletal, making the Death Eater masks seem like a crude mockery.

“Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,” a chilling voice droned from the skull face. A dark vapour flickered in the place where the eyes may have been. (Bhagavad-Gita)

In that moment, Voldemort saw every face of Death that had ever come or gone. Every life that had every been extinguished, every animal that had ever met its end, and ever person who had ever passed to the beyond since the very beginning of all things. His body convulsed, spasmed, and curled in on itself as foam flecked around his mouth. The man that was both Voldemort and Tom Riddle screamed, and even when his voice was raw and unable to make a sound, the screaming continued on in his head forever.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus opened his eyes to see Draco staring down at him, his grey eyes were weary and tired, but there was a relief in them that trickled across his face.

“Hello, Uncle,” he said softly. “I’m glad your pathetic attempt at dying were a failure.”

Severus snorted, despite himself. “It was hardly pathetic.” His eyes flicked around. “St. Mungo’s?”

Draco nodded. “With the Dark Lord’s threats on Hogwarts, we figured you would be safer away from the field of battle. Moody arranged for you to have a private room and some guards to keep you breathing. I’m sure after all the trouble Hermione went through to keep you with us, it would be a shame if you died on us.” Draco’s tone was dry, but Severus could tell that Draco was scared for him. He could feel it in the Pack Song that had stubbornly refused to let the Potion Master go. While it had been Hermione’s “voice” he had heard the strongest upon his revival, the other voices in the Song had added their say into their siren song back to the physical world.

Severus touched Draco’s hand and held it. “Are you all right?”

“You were right to tell me to stay at Hogwarts to keep an eye on the young Slytherin,” Draco said softly. “Adonis turned out to be one of the Dark Lord’s, and I had to… I had to duel him right in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room. He tried to Imperio Pansy to murder one of the half-bloods for the glory of the Dark Lord. She’s a mess, emotionally, and Pomfrey has her visiting a mind-healer here at Mungos to make sure she’s going to come out okay.”

Severus furrowed his brows. “Adonis Berry was hardly able to hold a wand without dropping it,” he said. “How did he suddenly gain skill in the Dark Arts?”

Draco shook his head. “Moody thinks he was a…sleeper?”

Severus closed his eyes. “Sleeper agent. Oddly a Muggle term, but probably still applicable.”

“Lovegood said there was drama in Ravenclaw as well,” Draco reported. “Someone named India Sanford managed to put two students in the hospital wing before they stunned her.” Draco trailed off. “She killed a student before they could contain her. “Joia Burbage.”

Severus winced. “Charity’s niece. She will be heartbroken. She was so proud that her niece had made Ravenclaw. What about Hufflepuff and Gryffindor?”

“Hufflepuff had and entire class held hostage on the third floor for a time,” Draco said. “Minerva sneaked in through a ventilation grate in cat form and took out Frank Stonehouse and Danah Pilgrim.”

“An entire class?” Severus asked. “Where was the professor?”

“They were waiting for class to start,” Draco explained. “Flitwick wasn’t due to arrive for another twenty minutes when it happened.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Gryffindor?”

“Davynn Liston put four lion cubs into the hospital wing trying to get at Seamus… No one is quite sure why Seamus was the target, but Brown and Patil took out Davynn… with a flying vase. Ronald Weasley actually redeemed himself by tripping up Nathan Northbridge as he was fleeing down the moving stairs. He wasn’t in any condition to be fleeing by the time he stopped falling. The Gryffindor seem to think he’s their hero.”

Severus blinked. “Crude, but effective. And the Ministry?”

“Safe,” Draco answered. “Something happened when the Death Eaters ported in. They were fighting, and then suddenly they all clutched their arms, screamed, and fell down. The followers without Marks, however, fled into the night.”

“They,” Severus started, “Fell. Down.”

“Screaming,” Draco added.

“Screaming,” Severus repeated.

“Mmhmm,” Draco said.

Severus laid his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, his hand reached for his left arm and he stroked the unblemished skin.

“Hermione said if you ever scare her like that again, I’m allowed to bite you,” Draco said. “Don’t think I won’t either.”

Severus flicked his black eyes to Draco’s.

“You really scared us,” Draco said softly.

Severus touched Draco’s hand again.

“Hermione’s being strong, just like you taught her,” Draco said. “She’s holding the Pack together until you get back.” There was warmth and admiration for his sister in his voice.

Severus smiled, the corners of his lips moving upward in a subtle smile. He felt like frolicking, but he’d start with small smiles as to not make the entire universe shift on its axis.

There was a soft triple woof, and Cerberus laid his three heads on the mattress at Severus’ feet. His tail wagged happily.

“Bodyguard I take it?” Severus chuckled.

“Hermione thinks you shouldn’t be alone in case I have to use the lavatory,” Draco chuckled.

“My daughter,” Severus grunted. “Always thinking ahead.” He patted the side of the bed and Cerberus came up to nuzzle his hand. He pursed his lips. “Why is it that you are here and not at Hogwarts herding students with the rest?”

Draco smirked. “I’m the only one she trusts to look after you when she cannot be here to do it herself.”

Severus snorted. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Mhmm,” Draco agreed. “You have no one to blame but yourself, you know. She is her father’s daughter.”

“I’m sure when the Dark Lord meets his end, and we are all still alive to torment each other, that all of Hogwarts will fall on its arse coming to terms with that particular factoid,” Severus sniffed.

“Neville seemed to take it better that we thought,” Draco said. “It only took a few hours for him to stop gibbering incoherently every time he saw Hermione.”

Severus was exercising his eyebrow quite a bit on this particular night and demonstrated it yet again by arching it at his godson. He tried to shift his weight and get up, but Draco gave him a look that was far from friendly. “Let me guess. I am not allowed to return to Hogwarts.”

Draco’s eyes were slightly amused. “I prefer to keep my life, Uncle,” he said with a sniff. “Self-preserving Slytherin and all that… which you are doing a horrible job of, I might add.”

Severus snorted. He turned his head, thoughtful. “I heard you in the song, even from far away.”

Draco let out his breath slowly. “I felt the Dark Lord’s sticky, horrible touch within him. I felt Harry weakening through the Song. I willed my energy there to help. What I could anyway with the fighting going on inside Hogwarts. Then, when I thought things were better, I felt Hermione’s despair. It was like a knife here.” Draco motioned to his chest. “She called us all together. She focused us into one voice… and I’m pretty sure she marched right up to Death’s front porch and demanded parlay.”

Severus’s eyes flickered with emotion. “I could see that, you know. She has been His Agent for longer than I care to admit. He has courted her as one mortal to another. Though her, so many have come to his feet.”

“Yet her soul remains her own,” Draco said. “Intact and whole.”

Severus nodded. “She does not murder, but she does take life. It is a fine line, and I cannot help but think that Death guides her hands and her talons with his own.”

“You sound strangely philosophical,” Draco commented.

“Death gives one perspective,” Severus muttered.

“The Order has seen no activity in over a week,” Draco said. “No Muggle attacks. No attacks from within Hogwarts or the Ministry. And Magorian sends you word that the Forests are safe.”

“Question is,” Severus said. “Is this the calm before the storm or the end of it?”

“I suppose you haven’t heard, since you were busy recovering from death and all,” Draco said with amusement.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “What should I be knowing?”

“The Dark Lord showed up at the gates of Hogwarts. Centaurs had dragged his, well alive is somewhat gentle term, body to the front gates,” Draco said. “He was staring out through these wide eyes, his mouth opened as if to scream, but there was no sound. He was completely unresponsive.”

“You’re joking,” Severus said.

“Serious as the Cruciatus,” Draco said.

Severus blinked and blinked again. “Was… it our spells?”

Draco shook his head. “We caught a few survivors that had apparated out of the battle around Hogwarts to literally march into the Auror’s office demanding they be put Azkaban where it was safe, and erm… they seem to think Death showed up and kissed the Dark Lord personally.”

A beat. Another.

“What?” Severus said.

Draco fanned his hands outward and waved them. “Glare not at the messenger, Uncle.”

Severus glared anyway.

Draco spread his fingers in appeasement. “Moody wants to gather the Aurors and raid Malfoy Manor. I told him he doesn’t need my permission to raid the Manor. I’d tell him to burn it down to the foundation if it wasn’t full of so many things my mother would mourn to see destroyed.”

“So they are hunting for what remains of the army and the Dark Lord’s faithful?” Severus asked.

Draco nodded. “They kept the Dark Lord’s capture on the down low, and even the papers are cooperating. They want to try and catch as many of them in the act before they realise they should be hiding. Honestly, I never expected the papers to be so… accommodating.”

“Rita Skeeter is rolling around in her future grave, I’m sure,” Severus quipped.

“Probably,” Draco agreed. “Moody has never been so busy… or so cranky.”

“Impossible,” Severus said. “There is always more room for cranky for Alastor Moody.”

Draco snickered. “Yes, Uncle.”

“Have I really been here a week?” Severus asked.

“One week, three days, twelve hours, and,” Draco pondered, “seventeen minutes.”

“Aren’t you a tempus charm,” Severus quipped dryly.

“I can feel it now, Severus,” Draco said softly.

Severus raised his head.

“The end of all the fighting,” Draco said. “The hiding. The subterfuge. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be able walk in public with my sister? To hug her public. To walk down a street with you and her and be able to say ‘this is me. This is the Draco you’ve never known. I am not my father. I am me.’”

Severus gave a tight smile. It was ironic that Draco looked forward to being his own person who was not the direct result of being his Father’s son, while Hermione strove for a time when she could revel in being her Father’s daughter and proclaim to the world that she was proud to stand by the side of Severus Snape. Yet, both of these young magic wielders were tightly bound to Snape’s life, each in their own way. Their loyalty, however, was unquestionable.

Severus stared down at his unblemished arm. He had a feeling he would keep looking, keep expecting it to burn, and keep thinking that he would wake up and have it all be a dream. The weight of every year since that fateful October in 1981 and the year previous when he had overheard Sybill Trelawney’s first true prophecy had been a burden he had become so accustomed to bearing that its disappearance made him feel awkward.

He reached out mentally to touch his Apprentice Daughter’s mind.

:Father,: her mind voice greeted warmly. Severus couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath at the intensity of her welcome.

:Master,: Viktor’s mind voice greeted him, warm and filled with relief.

:I don’t suppose it would be too much trouble to ask for permission to sleep in my own bed?: Severus asked dryly.

Genuine warmth trickled through the bond.

:Your will is mine, my Master,: Hermione’s mental reply came, filled with so much more meaning that her words could say.

There was a flutter of wings nearby and Severus saw Little Vik hovering in front of him. Vik was carrying a small owl figurine carved from jet. Shining eyes flickered off the figure. A small parchment label was stuck to the owl’s feet.

Heart and soul.

Severus clutched the figurine, stifling a surge of emotion that threatened to flood over is normal rigid control. He’d just recovered from death. Surely that was worth a little lax in control?

“Ready to go home?” Severus asked Draco.

The three-headed pup triple barked approval, tail wagging.

Draco gave him a look that warmed him up.

“Come, pup,” Severus said, patting the bed beside him.

The somewhat overgrown pup jumped up to place his head in his lap. Draco took his arm.

Severus closed his hand around the jet owl. “Heart and soul,” he said softly, and they were gone.

Little Vik chirped, fluttering in the air as his claws curved around a little scroll he was carrying. He flew to the door and slipped out the opening, dropping the scroll into the Auror’s laps.

The Auror unraveled the scroll and read it carefully.

Dear Aurors Michem and Hase,

My sincere apologies for this abrupt notification, but I fear my Master has been called home to his own bed at Hogwarts before he becomes too cranky for anyone to deal with.

If you wish to meet with Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, I am sure all will be explained in detail. I send the most heartfelt thanks for your watching over him the past two weeks, and if there is anything that I may do to assist you in the future, you need only ask.

In the meantime, I have attached a small token of appreciation that the both of you may enjoy a good, hearty meal, fine drink, and some well deserved relaxation.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger, Apprentice to Severus Snape, Potion Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (her seal, the gryphon rampant) (Official Seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry)

Auror Michem tilted back his head and laughed, slapping Hase on the back. “Come, old friend, let us get a drink and food, then off to Hogwarts we go.” He tapped his wand to the small pouch affixed to the scroll, and it enlarged into a full sized coin purse with enough galleons to insure they would not have to worry about food or drink for the next week or two.

Hase looked at him slightly confused, to which the elder Auror only grinned, motioning him on. Things were truly looking up.

Vik, the every dutiful hippogriff, fluttered his wings as he watched the two Aurors go, his dark eyes flickered with life. Vik chirped, went aloft, and disappeared into the night with a soft flutter of his wings.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

For the first time, there was a picnic on the hills overlooking Hogwarts and there were no Death Eaters threatening to pop out of the ground with killing curses. There were no worries of darkened skies, assassination plots, or dastardly deeds. And for the first time, the Pack lounged together out in the open with those that now knew their secret.

Neville laughed as Harry popped out of the picnic basket with oranges stuck in his antlers. Aleksander plucked the fruit off Harry and shoved him into Neville’s arms, shooing them both away.

The centaurs were sitting around the cooking fire, tending the venison roast that Viktor and Hermione had flown back to them. The colts and fillies were chasing each other around the greens, chasing and kicking some sort of kick ball that Valko had crafted for them. Trefoil was braiding Hermione’s mane into submission, enjoying the time with her beloved gryphon friend.

Luna was making friends with a group of young fillies, and the fillies seemed as fascinated by her as she was with them.

The Skybrothers took turns bringing in fish for the fires, and the centaurs took it upon themselves to prepare them for the fires.

Severus was propped against Viktor’s side as the simurgh sprawled in the sun. While neither Severus or Hermione ever gained a tan anymore, the both of them had a healthy glow about them, and the entire Pack seemed even more healthy than before.

Sirius was romping the forest with Cerberus and Remus. The three of them chased each other around in the underbrush until they were so exhausted that they returned back to the clearing and proceeded to flop on top of Tonks. Tonks wriggled and complained, but the three of them pinned her down completely, panting, drooling, and looking very smug about it.

Fred and George, to which Luna thanked them every time she saw them for guarding her father on the night the Horcruxes went down, were oogling at the sudden surge of Animagi they knew of. Both of them agreed that they wanted in on the action, but Aleksander told them he had enough mischief makers tearing apart his kitchen as it was.

Fred and George looked at Harry who attempted to give them an great halo look, but utterly failed due to the pomegranate stuck in his antlers.

Neville, while comfortable with all the Animagi around him, said he had no desire to find his inner animal. He was too afraid it would be something embarrassing that he’d never be able to live down.

Harry bit him on the ankle for that comment. He was a flying raccoon with antlers, for Merlin’s sake. How much more embarrassing could a form get?

Luna didn’t seem to express any driving interest to become and Animagi, but it was always hard to tell what was going on in Luna’s head, so no one was overly thoughtful over it.

Trefoil picked up and cuddled Minerva with such innocence that all the students present could only bite their lip and chuckle to themselves. Minerva didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, so they weren’t going to make a mountain out of a molehill over it. Trefoil placed Minerva over her dam’s back and giggled as the silver tabby draped across Chara’s dappled back. Magorian and Bane covered their mouth to hide their chuckle, but Firenze just let out a loud enthusiastic laugh.

But the most amazing event, perhaps, was not the fact that the Animagi, centaurs, and friends were gathered together, it was that Draco and Pansy were openly hanging out with all of them. While Draco was at least an accepted Pack member, it had taken some time for Neville, Fred, and George to come to terms that he wasn’t a foul bigoted git.

However, when the huge gryphon and her mate had rubbed up against him, accepting his hugs and scratches, the old walls were starting to crumble. It wasn’t long before everyone was accepted, and even Pansy, who had only recently come to terms with her own changing ideals, was accepted with the tolerance that everyone deserved a second chance.

“Where is your younger brother,Fred, George?” Remus asked.

“Ron’s at Mungos with mum and dad checking on Ginny,” the twins explained together.

“She’s getting more clear headed now, thank Merlin,” George said.

“Mind Healer Ashbrook says that she’s doing loads better,” Fred said, “but he’s trying to pluck out the false memories in a sea of memories, and it is very difficult to determine which ones are warped and which are true.”

“Sounds complicated,” Remus said.

Fred nodded. “He’s actually asked all of us to come in and have us be part of the sessions from time to time, so he has unaltered memories of same events to compare to. He said there was a feel he needed to get to know in order to heal her better. It’s all…”

“Terribly complicated,” George finished. “But we have a lot of hope now. She hasn’t tried to punch a healer in over a month!”

Remus gave the twins a look of disbelief.

“It only happened once,” Fred placated.

“Only because they learned to dodge the rest,” George said to his twin.

“I’m glad she is improving,” Remus said softly.

Tonks wriggled out from under Sirius and Cerberus. “Hardly seems real, you know,” she said after a moment. “He-who-lives-in-Mungos-mental-ward after all those years leading the Pureblood supremacy war.”

Pansy, who had been silent for most of the day, said, “I don’t think it was ever really about blood for him.”

Gazes focused on her curiously.

Pansy shook her head. “The entire Pureblood propoganda was an ends to a means for him. It garnered him followers willing to do extreme things to keep their power and their illusion of it. It was all about controlling people and pitting them against each other on his terms. Look at Crabbe and Goyle. They didn’t start out slinging Unforgiveables, but by the time we started having Hogsmeade burning and fights in the Great Hall, things had definitely changed.”

Fred and George looked at Pansy with a thoughtful expression, perhaps coming more to terms with her change in demeanour as well as have a little more faith in Draco’s improved opinion of her.

Neville nodded. “Draco, I know this may be a touchy subject for you, but what happened to your dad?”

Draco took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Moody took a practical contingent of Aurors over to Malfoy Manor and tore it to pieces. They found my father sprawled on the floor, foaming at the mouth with a a couple of other Death Eaters. Seems like whatever Voldemort did to his followers that night didn’t spare any of his faithful. Some reward for being faithful, if you ask me.”

“Sounds like Mungos is right full of Death Eaters now,” Fred said. “At least they are all comatose. I’d hate to think that they will wake up and start killing people again.”

Draco shook his head. “From what the mind healers have told Moody and Shacklebolt, there isn’t one of the bunch that will ever recover. They are all… prisoners in their minds.”

“It’s a different sort of prison,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“The prison of the mind can be the worst place to be,” Firenze said suddenly. “The lock is often so mutable that its key can never be found.”

The centaurs around them nodded in agreement.

“So, now that you are the Boy Who Lived Despite the Odds,” Fred asked. “What are you going to do with yourself, Harry?”

“I think,” Harry started to say. “I think I’m going to be an Auror. Provided I can get all my N.E.W.T.s in order.”

“An Auror, Harry? Why?” George asked.

Harry looked thoughtful. “I spent most of my life being protected from something or someone,” Harry said. “For once, I want to be the one that protects someone else. Someone who, like me, needs a little protection and may not realise it.”

“Very noble of you, Harry,” Sirius said, running his hand through his hair. “I think you’d make a good one.”

“If he can pass his potions class,” Severus said with a sniff, flipping the page of the book he was reading.

“Surely he could find someone to assist him if he has questions in potions, Severus,” Remus said with a smirk.

“My Apprentice will be busy teaching first years how not to blow themselves up like Seamus Finnegan,” Severus said without looking up from his book. “Besides, isn’t that Horace’s pet project at the moment?”

Remus snickered. “You may be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, Severus, but you will always be the Potion Master of Hogwarts,” he reminded the Dark wizard. “Besides, your daughter takes after you. Surely, between the two of you, you might have time to share a little knowledge with Harry.” Remus grinned at Severus.

“I think Mr. Potter has other things to worry about at the moment, Remus,” Minerva said with a tut.

“Oh?” Lupin asked. “Whatever would that be?”

Minerva pointed pointed upward to where Hermione had Harry by the antlers and was tossing him back and forth between herself, Viktor, and the Skybrothers. “Keeping his antlers out of trouble. Much like his father.”

Remus and Sirius looked up to watch the antics above them and burst out laughing together.

“Quaffle-Harry,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Quaffle-Harry,” Remus agreed.

Draco, Fred, and George took that moment to grab their brooms, mount them with a whoop of excitement, and take off into the skies to help chase the furry and antlered Quaffle-Harry though the skies.


	93. Belated N.E.W.T.s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione contemplate Gerkhin's fate.  
> Draco and Pansy have a talk.  
> Hermione takes her N.E.W.T.s  
> Orders of Merlin? Check.  
> Neville visits his parents at St. Mungos.

Chapter 93: Belated N.E.W.T.s

“Do you think we’ll ever get that ring off him?” Hermione said as she watched Dumblegoat with his herd of nannies.

“I have no idea,” Severus admitted, staring into the paddock with a slight curl of his lip. “Are those… kids?”

Hermione turned, staring up to watch the clouds. “Of a certain species, yes,” she coughed into her hand.

Three baby goats were bouncing around the paddock, landing on the adult goats’ backs, springing off, and bleating at each other. The kids bounced, sniffed, leaped over the adults, bounced some more, and then reared up on their hind legs and smashed into each other.

Hermione and Severus managed to look exceedingly uncomfortable simultaneously.

“Like the new additions?” Hagrid asked as he walked out from the hut. “Aberforth exchanged some of the nannies the other week, and they had their kids last week.”

Master and Apprentice took in a breath sharply and let it out slowly. “So,” Hermione said. “These aren’t his… kids?”

“Naw,” Hagrid said. “He hangs with the nannies all and well, but he doesn’t really show an interest in them, if you catch my meaning.”

:Thank Merlin,: Hermione said to Severus, relief flowing though her mental voice.

:Agreed,: Severus answered. :If we do find a way to get that ring off him… I do not want to explain to him that he has… kids.:

Hermione flushed. “Erm, so… here is your fertilizer, Hagrid,” she said, holding out the canister.

Relations between Hermione, Hagrid, and Severus had remained strained. Nothing since his obsession with subjugating his brother in the Dark Forest “for his own good” and getting Hermione practically crushed to death had truly healed between them. Hagrid was sadly always in denial, and Hermione could forgive so many things, but not that Hagrid truly didn’t see anything wrong with what he did . Severus, on the other hand, saw everything that was wrong with what he did, and if his protectiveness as her Master wasn’t enough, his protectiveness as her father was definitely in high gear. Hence the rule that she was not “allowed” to visit Hagrid without some sort of escort remained. Maybe one day, when she was old enough to have grey hairs, he would allow her to visit without escort. Maybe, that is, if she cared to visit at all.

Little Vik chirped sweetly from her hair, and Hermione was reminded that she had to sit her N.E.W.T.s with the twins.

She slumped her shoulders. She dreaded tests. Even the tests she was overly prepared for bothered her before she took them.

:You’ll do fine,: Severus said to her, following her thoughts. :Off you go.:

Hermione glomped onto her father without further ado, snuffling his scent deeply to comfort herself and calm her nerves.

Snape’s hand gently touched her hair, stroking it as he would her feathers. :Look at the bright side, my daughter. Next year you get to teach with me instead of sitting through boring classes trying to teach you what you already know.:

Hermione sniffed, lifted her head, and stormed up the pathway. “Dunderheads! All of them!” she sneered as she left. Cerberus scampered by her side, heeling to her leg and staring up at her adoringly as they left.

Severus Snape tilted his head back and truly laughed. There was no doubt in his mind whose daughter she was.

Hagrid was staring at him as though he were the next incumbent Dark Lord.

“What, Hagrid?” Snape snapped.

“Er… ‘nuthin, Professor Snape,” Hagrid stumbled over himself as he fumbled with the canister of plant fertiliser.

Snape’s corner of the mouth curled up with its normal customary disdain. The Potion Master turned on his heels and swept up the path, his dark robes fluttering behind him.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Draco leaned up against the fire tree in the Durmstrang Courtyard, reading his textbook before the Great Hall reopened for lunch. The entire morning had been booked up for the N.E.W.T.s and everyone seemed to think it was about bloody time the seventh years from the previous year got around to taking them. Umbridge’s parting gift to Hogwarts had made it a pain in the rear to get your credentials like a normal person.

Pansy sat down beside him. She had started to spend more time with him now that the threat of Voldemort was no longer causing a stir everywhere. Things in Hogwarts were actually starting to feel like they were back in first year, when all of them were oblivious to the machinations of the rising, or rather re-rising, Dark Lord.

“Hey,” Pansy greeted. Her demeanour had become something far less Pureblood supremacist and more rational since the battle in Hogsmeade, but only now that the Dark Lord was no longer looming over her family with his crimson eyes was she able to openly make the shift towards being a reasonable human being.

Draco had, despite it all, put his honour on the line for her, and Pansy seemed to realise that if she did put a toe out of line, that it would not just be Draco that would tear her to pieces. Draco was not alone. He was never alone, and perhaps, he hadn’t been since their second year.

“How did you end up getting to know her?” she asked curiously. “You were always with Crabbe and Goyle. I never even… no one did… suspect you of anything less than being on the path of your father.”

Draco looked up from his book, tilting his head to the side. “We met in our second year. The year the Chamber of Secrets thing started up. That was the year that my Uncle took Hermione under his wing as his Apprentice.”

“That early?” Pansy asked, pulling her hair back into a tie.

Draco nodded. “No one knew, of course,” Draco said. “Not even me. The only reason I found out was that Dumbledore sent my Uncle on some errand in the heart of South America looking for an artifact in the jungle. Something was guarding it. He got it, but by the time he dragged himself back to Hogwarts, he was bleeding out, and he bled out right in front of Hermione. She was trying to help him when I stumbled in on them, and well… I didn’t take it well. I accused her of doing some horrible things to my Uncle.”

Pansy shook her head. “We may not have been on speaking terms back then, Hermione and I, but even I knew that the witch wasn’t the type to do horrible things to anyone.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I wasn’t at my best that night.”

“What happened then?” Pansy asked.

Draco stroked his hair with one hand. “She begged me to help her take him to his chambers. I was still telling her off, but Severus revived enough to tell me to basically shut up and listen to her.” Draco gave a dry laugh. “I can laugh about it now, but back then, wow. Yeah. So… we managed to get him to his chambers, and she starts to dress his wounds, pour potions down his throat and I had no idea she even knew what they were let along how to administer them, and then Severus tries to succumb to hypothermia thanks to all that blood loss.

“So, she’s pleading my Uncle to let her do something, and I have no idea why she’s so nervous about it. He tells her that she can trust me, and then, everything changed. She changed. It wasn’t just physical. It was mental too. It was like seeing her for the first time when she shifted. She wrapped herself around Severus and radiated this heat that… well you know the feel of it now right?”

“Like heat from the sun,” Pansy said.

“Yeah, like the sun,” Draco agreed. “Viktor is like that too, and Aleksander. They radiate heat like that was what they were made for. But, she saved him that night, and I realised that I didn’t know her at all. She didn’t know me at all either. I was staring this huge bloody gryphon in the face, and I knew nothing about her save that she saved my Uncle. The one person I could trust, and he trusted her with his life. So, I introduced myself and we’ve been practically siblings since.”

Pansy looked thoughtful. “For four years you’ve been living the great lie pretending to hate her, and I know I’m not the only one who never suspected a thing.”

Draco smiled tightly. “It was our job to hide our relationship until now. Any lapse and it would put my Uncle in danger, and both of us knew the price if he were to fail.”

“Yet, the Durmstrang…” Pansy trailed off.

“Yes, they knew,” he said with a chuckle. “Hermione asked for special consideration for them. Remember that battle with armadillo-man in the Great Hall? She bled in battle with them. To them that was the highest form of bond. The bond of the soldier to another soldier. They swore loyalty to her as her brothers. They dragged her off to a mountain peak somewhere in the Swiss Alps to tell them their secret. They were all Animagi. Mind you they were fully known and registered in Bulgaria, but no one here knew it. She blew their minds by showing them what she was.”

“A gryphon,” Pansy sighed. “A real one. If I hadn’t seen it, I would never have believed it, and that… whatever that is Viktor is? I couldn’t wrap my mind around that very well either.”

“A simurgh,” Draco said with a laugh. “We affectionately call him our freak of nature because that is what he calls himself.”

Pansy let out a laugh. “At least he’s okay with it.”

“A more compassionate and ruthlessly protective wizard you will never meet,” Draco said thoughtfully. “He commands respect without even trying, and he bows his head to my Uncle without question. He always has. I think that meant more to my Uncle than he ever really said in words. People tend to not trust him, after all, being a ‘Dark wizard’ and all.”

“I find that truly ironic, considering all that you’ve told me he’s done,” Pansy answered.

“Done, yes, but all while a handful of people knew,” Draco smirked. Draco tilted his head. “What caused you to turn away from the entire Pureblood mentality, Pansy. Honestly, you seemed to enjoy the entire ridicule thing.”

Pansy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I grew up, I think. Something changed inside. As the war was brewing, I started to see things I didn’t like because those things I saw contradicted what I had been taught. I think it was thanks to Umbridge, really. That’s when I started to really think that something was off about the ‘old ways’ as I had been taught.”

“Wait,” Draco said. “I have to thank Umbridge for something?”

“Hush, you git,” Pansy snorted. “But yes. I suppose you do.”

Draco smiled lopsidedly at her.

“You know, Astoria Greengrass isn’t like her sister,” Pansy said. “She’s been saying all along that finding more enemies than allies was not the answer. She once chewed me out for being a prejudiced parrot who couldn’t think on my own.”

Draco sputtered slightly, pounding his chest.

“She was right, though,” Pansy chuckled. “I was back then. I was a horrible person. There was nothing I accomplished that benefited anyone but myself. I think I owe her a platter of brownies or something. Treacle tarts or something.”

Draco looked skyward, watching the clouds. “At least you see the wrong in it. Some of ours never did.”

Pansy frowned and nodded. “Are you all keeping the down low then? At least for another year? I’d understand if you did, I mean, there are a lot of people still subscribing to the Pureblood train.”

“For now, there is the growing number people that we had fought with and trusted that we are slowly exposing our true relationships with,” Draco said, tracing a glyph in the dirt with his finger. “In public we will have our neutral face, as it were, but when we have time to ourselves like the other afternoon, we can be ourselves and all that entails. You were actually the first one I brought in on the secret from Slytherin. Most of Slytherin is so damn good at appearing to be something that it was too much of risk to even think about trusting someone I wasn’t already damn sure wasn’t going to shank me in my sleep.”

Pansy seemed thoughtful. “I’m glad you felt you could trust me. I know… well I know that I wasn’t worth anyone’s trust before.”

Draco closed his book. “As you said. People grow up, and people change. Hermione and I, well, we had to grow up years before everyone else. We knew the risks before anyone else. Honestly, if future me came back to eleven year old me and told me what was going to happen and who I would trust to be by my side, I would have told myself where to go.”

Pansy snorted. “I’m sure your arguing with yourself would have gone over swimmingly.”

Draco smirked and stood up, extending his hand to Pansy. “Great Hall should be opening soon. Time to get lunch.”

“I really hope there is pudding today,” Pansy said randomly. “I’ve been craving it for some reason.”

“Now, I know you’ve been spending too much time with Luna,” Draco laughed, pulling her up.

Pansy made an affronted face but grinned after a time.

Draco gestured with his chin. “Come on, let’s see if the house-elves have blessed you with pudding. If not, you’ll have to bribe Hermione’s elf to get you some.

The pair walked off towards the Great Hall in the hopes of lunch.

Pansy paused in mid stride. “Wait, Hermione Granger has a house-elf?”

Draco grabbed her arm and dragged her along. “Long story. Come along.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione’s eyebrow was twitching as she set down her quill for the written N.E.W.T.s. For some reason they had done the practicals first and the written portion after, which wasn’t a horrible problem, but it did throw her off from what she remembered of the O.W.L.s.

The visiting professors that were overseeing the N.E.W.T.s seemed much more relaxed, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was because the threats from rampaging Death Eaters and Voldemort messing with the Ministry had finally tapered off, or if the professors themselves were simply that naturally mellow.

She supposed, after some pondering, that either was a good reason to be mellow. The lull after the big explosion at the Auror’s magical containment areas was quite enough excitement for oh… perhaps the next few years or more at least.

The Pack had all wondered what had actually broken down Voldemort into the drooling catatonic mess that had been dragged to the gates of Hogwarts and reduced his minions to much the same.

Severus had speculated that when he channelled all of their raw magical fury down the line of his Dark Mark,Voldemort had channelled it back out to his followers in order to mitigate the effects on himself. The power he had channelled, unfortunately, had been too much, even shared, to leave those touched by it unscathed. Severus had quite literally died to make it happen, though thankfully, recovered from the experience. Hermione wasn’t complaining.

As Hermione stood up from her writing desk, she walked her written papers up to the professors up at the front of the Great Hall. They nodded to her as they took her papers, stamped them all with their official seals, and had her sign them white they witnesses. Hermione pressed her seal into the wax on each of the submissions and nodded to them as they smiled at her.

“You may retrieve your hippogriff and your Grecian canine, Apprentice Granger,” the elderly wizard said with a smile. We will owl your results to your Master once they are graded.

As if sensing the all clear, Cerberus hopped up from under the table where the overseeing professors were and came to Hermione’s side, and one miniature hippogriff shot over from his perch on a nearby chair and zipped into Hermione’s hair with a chirp of satisfaction.

“You have quite the menagerie following you, my dear,” the elder witch sitting nearby said with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied.

“I would love to examine the little hippogriff further when we are not overseeing the N.E.W.T.s,” the elderly wizard said with a smile. “If you be so kind as to entertain me in the evening.”

Hermione nodded. “I am sure my Master would agree. Perhaps, when I escort you all to dinner in Hogsmeade?”

“That would be lovely, dear,” another of the elderly witches replied. “We will see you then.”

Hermione inclined her head slightly in a bow, and exited the room, her robes fluttering behind her as the rest of the seventh years completed their N.E.W.T.s.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Fred and George lay flat on their backs out on the green of the courtyard, spread eagle and exhausted.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Fred said with a huff.

“Finally the official end of our Hogwart’s education,” George grunted.

Cerberus was snuffling Fred and flopped on him, causing the twin to oof. He scratched the pup behind the ears on all three heads. The Grecian dog was starting to fill out with age. His chest was bigger, his proportions were more even, and manners seemed more refined. It wasn’t so much that he had ever been badly behaved after the first month of training under Severus and Hermione, but the three-headed dog had begun to mellow out more, losing the hyperactive playfulness for a more calculated play.

“How much bigger will this bloke get?” George asked.

“He’s already huge,” Hermione answered, taking her own moment to flop in the grass with them. “If you take the charmed collar off him, he barely fits through the doors.”

Fred chuckled. “Shame you didn’t just take his collar off and sic him on a crowd of old Voldy’s followers.”

“He’s had his own fair share of the Dark Lord’s minions,” Hermione sniffed. “He doesn’t really need more encouragement.”

The twins nodded, having remembered Cerberus’ taking out of certain Death Eaters in Ollivander’s store.

“What are you two going to do now that your N.E.W.T.s are done?” Hermione asked.

“McGonagall spoke with a few of us older seventh years,” Fred said. “She’s allowing us to stay the full year in exchange for tutoring the O.W.L. level students for their exams.”

“The fighting, the war, the everything just kind of messed up the entire learning thing this year, especially,” George said thoughtfully. “And I don’t mind giving back a little to my fellow students now that the store is stable without us there and Voldy-pants is drooling in a private ward in Mungos with his 101 comatose Death Eaters.”

Hermione snorted. “I find it ironic that there is an entire ward of of them just staring off into space, trapped in their own minds.”

“Nothing better suited, if you ask me,” Fred said. “With Azkaban, there was always this chance that someone would escape, but from what’s been said about the Dark Lord’s condition, or his followers for that matter, I feel better with him being as incapacitated as he is.”

George rolled over and poked Hermione. “We meant what we said the other day, little sis. I know the fighting and all is over, or at least we don’t have Death Eaters popping up in our hallways… but we’d both like to learn to be Animagi. Will you teach us?”

Hermione chuckled. “I dread to think what you and Harry will get into if all of you are Animagi. You’ve seen what Harry gets into already.”

The twins grinned at her shamelessly.

Hermione snorted and shook her head. “Fine,” she grunted, sounding much like her father. “I supposed I will humour you.”

Fred and George whooped in happiness and proceeded to tickle Hermione to death, causing Cerberus to bark and tackle each of the twins down.

The three of them ended up in a heap, panting and laughing together.

“You and Draco, eh?” Fred said randomly, puffing air to blow his hair out of the way. “I hate to say it, but I could see you and Snape being close long before you and Malfoy.”

Hermione ribbed the twins simultaneously. “He helped keep me sane back when Ron was being a lousy git.”

Fred tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, having seen how that played out, I think that alone would have put positive points on his scorecard from the both of us, had we known.”

Hermione sighed softly. “I’m glad you didn’t start flinging hexes at him the moment he walked in to dinner after things settled down.”

Fred and George exchanged glances. “Now, now, Granger,” they tutted. “Hexes aren’t our style when we had a perfect number of other things we could have done to him.”

Hermione groaned, placing her hand to the bridge of her nose.

“Naw,” George said in a strangely serious tone. “We may act like utter nuts most of the time, Hermione, but we’re not blind. When you gave him that hug in front of all of us after the battle, we knew… you can’t fake that kind of relief. It was the same relief we had when you saved our dad. Seeing you there… you, Snape, and Malfoy… it seemed right. Utterly crazy, mind you, but right.”

Hermione’s eyes flickered with emotion and she sniffed, nodding and laughing at the same time.

“Personally, I think I was more surprised to see Pansy Parkinson was a decent person,” George said honestly.

“She saved a group of Gryffindor during the attacks inside Hogwarts,” Fred said. “We told you that right?”

Hermione shook her head.

“She smuggled a bunch of first years out of danger through the dungeons,” George explained. “We didn’t even know she did until they met back up with us after the fighting died down. They told us, and all of us that remember what she was like for so long practically had a heart attack right on the moving stairs.”

“And all that was after she was attacked by her own House traitor and almost Imperioed to kill one of her own House,” George said. “That takes a lot of strength to get up from that and still do the right thing.”

“Enough for us to think she deserves a good shake and a second chance, eh?” Fred said.

Hermione smiled. “Indeed.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Bulgarian Seeker Heartthrob Announces Engagement after Order of Merlin Ceremony

Viktor Krum has been making headlines around the world for his skill as the Bulgarian team’s Seeker for years now, but nothing could have prepared us for his family’s official announcement that their son has proposed to the love of his life and they intend to marry as soon as the specifics can be ironed out.

Viktor and his fiancée Hermione Granger, one of the many vaulted heroes of the latest and most emotional Wizarding Wars, have brought us something to celebrate in the aftermath of what seems like the end of the Second Wizarding War.

While there has been no official announcement as to the whereabouts and activities of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, some of us can see that the writing on the wall. The lack of Muggle and Wizarding murders, and absence of black cloaked raiders in the middle of the night can only be considered a blessing, and nothing seems more uplifting than the wedding of two talented youth such as Viktor Krum and his intended wife, Hermione Granger.

The star athlete showed off his prowess on the broom by swooping down upon the snitch in the latest game against the Americans and then flew into the seating where his intended sat watching his latest game, and proceeded to propose to her right there on the spot.

Her response was muffled by the screams of the audience, my friends, but judging by the fact that Apprentice Granger was pulled onto his broom and they were surrounded by both the Bulgarian and American teams in a slew of fireworks, aerial stunts, and cheering, I doubt the response was no! It gives this old wizard that warm and tingly feeling that there are indeed happy endings out there waiting to happen, my friends, and none too soon after such a long chain of depressing news clogging our arteries here at the Prophet.

The pair have grown extremely close as friends and as participants in the movement against Tom Riddle, the man who rose in power as the self proclaimed Dark Lord. These recipients of the First Order of Merlin, along with their fellows in service and combat such as Professor and Master Severus Snape, Acting Headmistress, Professor, and Master McGonagall, Lord Sirius Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Professor Remus Lupin, Aleksander Orlov, Lazar Tsvetanov, Valko Metodiev, Petya Arnaut, Harry Potter, Auror Alastor Moody, Auror Nymphadora Tonks, and the youngest Lord Draco Malfoy.

Mr. Harry Potter stood up at the ceremony to witness and regale us with the fact there were many more people who went into the events that lead up to the what many are calling the final battle: the battle that marked the end of the midnight raids, Muggle and Wizarding murders, and unfair legislation past while under the influence of the Dark Lord. He noted that if it were not for for his friends and people who have supported both him and the cause against You-Know-Who, that victory would have been hollow. He praised those who sacrificed their lives for the cause they never saw concluded, those who believed in him when the world did not, and those that never stopped being there both for him and each other. He noted that while he may have been the Boy-Who-Lived, he did not stand alone in the darkness. No person, he said, should ever be expected to fulfil the future alone. He did not, he said, and the allies and friends he made in his journey shall never be forgotten. No one stands along against the Darkness.

Well we here at the Daily Prophet salute you all, veterans of the war! Without you there could be no celebration.

The rest of the Orders of Merlin were awarded with the highest praise, and many agreed that it was not the class of the order that mattered. All of the ones standing up to receive were proud, but not for themselves but for their friends and family.

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, and their sons Fred and George all accepted their Orders with a humbleness that makes this wizard warm in the heart. They, and a host of Aurors who rose to defend Hogsmeade, defend Hogwarts, and put their lives on the line to evacute the Ministry in the lastest battle were given their recognition with the hearty of applause of all that were gathered.

Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was given his own Order as well for leading an underground protection network for victims of the battles. He, Bill Weasley, his fiancee, Fleur Delacour, and a number of other Aurors worked together to move high risk families out of the Country and out of the sights of the war. All of the members of their organisation have been proudly heralded as heroes in their own right, and they were awarded their Orders to that end.

The Ministry has crafted a wall monument to be placed both in the atrium of the Ministry as well as a sister monument to be placed at Hogwarts. The monuments will list the names of all who have both lost their lives since the first war until now along with the names of those that survived in service to our great Wizarding world.

In tribute to the words of Veteran Harry Potter, “No One Stands Alone Against the Darkness,” has been inscribed upon the monuments.

Shacklebolt commented on the monument’s announcement by saying, “You do not need a medal or an Order to be great or to have accomplished greatness. You do not need to have your name in bold in history to leave your mark upon the hearts of others, but let these monuments be a testament to both the humble and the brave. Let these names be forever be respected as something vital to what we stood for: life. Let those who lost their lives bring meaning to those that live on. May those that live on hold in their hearts the memories of those that past, but may all of us take something greater than ourselves out of this war.”

Minister of Magic Scrimgeour stated that an old friend once told him that the makings of every hero was in making the choice to do what was right rather than what was easy, and he was glad that so many chose the path of right over the path of ease.

We salute you heroes and veterans! Because of you, we can look forward to more weddings such as those in the future of Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger. Congratuations!

(Please turn to page 2 for a complete list of Order of Merlin recipients.)

Those wishing to submit a name or group of names to the monument can fill out the form on the inset of page 2 and owl it to War Memorial Submissions, ℅ Ministry of Magic.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“I may vomit,” Severus said as he put down the Daily Prophet.

“That’s not very nice, Father,” Hermione chided as she recorded the grades from a pile of papers her Master had graded.

Draco snickered as he moved traced the last of an equation on the paper he was working on and a flash of completion magic signalled the end. He rolled it up and stashed it into his bag. “You know Severus, Ari,” he chuckled. “Public niceties makes him nauseous.”

“The perfume that one witch was wearing was making me nauseous,” Hermione said, curling her lip. “How can people wear such overpowering horrible floral scents and not pass out?”

Severus snorted. “Says the gryphon who practically stuffs her face into my pocket seeking the ylang-ylang oil.”

“Psh,” Hermione said. “That is different. It has a nice scent that doesn’t attempt to reach up into my sinus cavities and yank them out.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at her, but there was a smirk upon his lips. “Whatever you say, my daughter,” he said with amusement.

There was a whoosh of wings as an owl came fluttering into the classroom, wobbling slightly with the weight of a hefty looking scroll. The owl flapped over to Severus and dropped the scroll into his lap and then landed with a tired hoot on the nearby chair.

Multiple raised eyebrows lifted in response, but it was Severus that reached over and handed the owl a few owl nuts. The owl hooted thanks and tore into them with gusto. The owl ruffled his wings tiredly and seemed to want to stick around, perhaps to catch his wind again.

Severus placed his hand on the waxen seal on the scroll before breaking it, unrolling the scroll. His eyes flicked across the paper with purpose.

“Hnn,” he said. Nothing more. He rolled up the scroll.

Hermione and Draco looked at him curiously.

“Don’t even, Uncle,” Draco said. “You don’t get to open such an ornate looking scroll and just say, ‘Hnn’.”

“Hermione will have to take her N.E.W.T.s again, I fear,” Severus said with a sniff. “Something about her testing forms being the wrong revision.”

“WHAT?!” Hermione dove over the desk she was sitting at and snatched the scroll out of her father’s hands, her face red with indignation.

She unrolled the scroll and read it, and her face went from red to an even darker red.

Severus chuckled. “Congratulations, my daughter. You passed them all Outstanding.”

Hermione burst into tears and flying tackled Severus into his chair, burying her face into his robes. “I hate you so much,” she sobbed into him.

He stroked her hair gently, amusement on his face. “Consider this payback for setting my robes on fire in your first year.”

Hermione’s face managed to deepen one shade more red.

“WHAT?” Draco yelled.

The startled hippogriff in Hermione’s hair chirped a similar reply.

Hermione buried herself in Severus’ robes as the Potion Master stroked her hair in comfort.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Neville nervously walked down the corridors of St. Mungo’s. His mind was a whirl with stress. There hadn’t been one time he came here that he didn’t feel like crying afterwards, and he had enough bubble gum wrappers from his mother to account for a lifetime’s worth of tears.

His grandmother had always been “kind” enough to remind him constantly that he was never quite good enough to put a candle to his parent’s accomplishments. He was always soft spoken, tripped over his own shadow, and turned within while most Gryffindor were all about speaking up.

Visiting his “hero” Auror parents broke his heart every time. Heroes they may have been, but their minds had been tortured so long that the Mind Healers had said it was like every bridge to anywhere had been burned. They couldn’t remember themselves let alone figure out what was going on around them. His grandmother, Augusta, seemed to take a bit of her grief out on Neville. While he didn’t hold it against her now, in fact he could even recognise that she was still in pain over it, the little boy that just wanted approval had long since given up on ever seeing true recognition in his parent’s glassy eyes.

Luna squeezed his hand, and Neville startled a bit. She looked at him with her dreamy eyes, but her face was lucid. “Things are going to be okay, Neville. Don’t you see them? The wrackspurts aren’t as thick here.”

Neville squeezed her hand back. Luna, bless her, meant well, and she had become someone he could rely on over the years. Even all of her whimsical names for things that couldn’t possibly exist were, in their own way, comforting.

As he stepped into the ward, he noticed that his mother was sitting in a sunbeam by the window, rocking back and forth in an almost mundane manner. She looked so normal there, and he could see her in his mind’s eye sitting in the old rocking chair back at his grandmother’s place rocking back and forth cradling a baby in her arms.

“Do you want me to stay out here, Neville?” Luna asked softly. “I don’t mind.”

Neville shook his head. “It’s okay. I… want you to be there with me if… if you don’t mind, that is.”

Luna gave him a warm smile. “Of course not.”

Neville grabbed a chair and brought it over to where his mother was sitting in the sun and set it down. Luna sat on a nearby chair.

“Hello, mother,” Neville said softly.

Alice Longbottom blinks blearily in the sun. She looked towards Neville, but it was obvious she couldn’t see him very well. She squinted at him, her brows furrowing.

Neville cast his eyes down, struggling within himself not to be disappointed. Every visit a part of him hoped for the miracle that never came. Every time he left with a bubble gum wrapper as a reminder of what had been done to her and to his father.

Neville looked to where his father’s normal bed was and saw it empty. Apparently they had chaired him off somewhere, perhaps to “socialise” with some of the other patients in the ward.

“Sunny day today, mum,” Neville said, not really knowing what to say. “Last week has been pretty crummy. Headmistress gave me permission to come visit you. It’s almost the end of the sixth year at Hogwarts. A lot has happened since I last saw you.” Neville wiped his nose with his sweater. “You’ve been avenged, mum. Bellatrix… all the Death Eaters… they won’t hurt anyone else again. It’s over.”

“Shouldn’t,” Alice said. “Revenge.”

Neville’s head lifted up. “What?”

Alice was staring off into the sunny courtyard below as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

Neville swallowed hard. “It wasn’t revenge, mum. We protected Harry Potter. We saved him from V…oldemort. And when it was all over… all of his Death Eaters were defeated. He took them all out himself, trying to save himself. I don’t know if you can understand me, mum, but Harry was the one you and dad protected. He’s alive.”

“Neville,” Alice said softly. “My baby.”

Neville was suddenly on his knees beside her, his hands clasped hers as he stared into her face as she stared off into the courtyard. “Mum?” his voice cracked. He stared into her, his lip quivering in hope beyond hope.

“My son,” Alice said, her hand touching his head, stroking his hair, her voice drifting as if on the clouds. “Who is your friend?” Her eyes flicked over to Luna.

Luna smiled at Alice as if nothing in the world was odd about her question. “Luna Lovegood, ma’am. I’m Neville’s friend from school.”

“Hogwarts,” Alice said simply, turning her head back to the courtyard. “Must be… Ravenclaw.”

Neville looked from Luna to his mother, tears were starting to flow down his face. “Mum,” he repeated, holding his hands over his mother’s, gripping them tightly.

Alice placed one hand over his as she rocked in her chair. “My son is Gryffindor,” Alice said dreamily. “Just like his parents.” She leaned back in the chair. “So proud.”

Neville laid his head in his mother’s lap, pressing his cheek to her hands.

Slowly, his mother’s hand moved out from under his head and stroked his hair. “Neville,” she said softly.

Neville clung to his mother’s lap, a young boy once again, whose only want was was the soft touch of his mother’s hand and the approval of his parents. For the first time seventeen years, he had hope that his dream would become reality. Neville Longbottom wept, but not in despair.

 


	94. Better Off Not Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Ginevra Weasley...

Chapter 94: Better Off Not Knowing

Master Severus Snape and his Apprentice stood as still as statues as they watched people flit by them. Their expressions were identical and impassive. Too much practice at that particular skill had made it normal to be otherwise. The Master had more practice, but the Apprentice was a dutiful study, and neither of them gave a hint of anything but the tight and undeniable bond of a true apprenticeship.

“Ah,” Mind Healer Ashbrook called, beckoning them over to his small office desk. “Thank you for coming in.”

Snape inclined his head and Hermione bowed her slightly.

“I thank you for providing the potions for Miss Weasley’s therapy, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have given their permission to share their care with you since your help has been so vital to her treatment in combination to the psychic healer that has been required,” Ashbrook said. “I know from her memories, both tampered and non, that Apprentice Granger was a significant part of Miss Weasley’s school memories, and you, Master Snape, have been her professor.”

Snape and Hermione nodded affirmative.

“Healing her has been… challenging,” Ashbrook confessed. “The corruption was sinister and deep. All of the tendrils were subtle and easily seen as normal memories, and much of what was built on top of the lies were lost when healing to an uncorrupted state.”

“Lost?” Hermione repeated. “To what extent?”

The healer sighed softly. “There is no easy way to say this,” he said. “Much of what she has built her memories on after the time the corruption took place has been lost. There was no way to destroy one without releasing the other as well.”

Hermione closed her eyes, and Severus steepled his hands together.

“How much of her memory remains, Healer Ashbrook?” Severus asked.

“Everything she built with her family up until the time when she was actually possessed by the Dark artifact,” Ashbrook said. “Most of everything after that was twisted in some way. The sad thing is that it wasn’t always a major corruption, but one little change tainted the entire strand. Her blood family has helped her significantly in stabilisation, but I fear that she is mentally… eleven years old. There will be some things that were untouched. Some skill and process learning, muscle memory, truly mundane memories etcetera, but much of what made up her school life was what was lost. She’ll have to start over and build up from where she lost everything. The good news is, she can start over. The corruption is gone. She won’t be haunted by it anymore.”

Hermione opened her eyes, taking in a large breath. “She has seven more years of school,” she said with a resigned laugh. “The Ginny I knew would be freaking out at the very though of having to repeat everything.”

Severus’ black eyes seemed to swallow up his eye sockets, but then he blinked and it was simply his normal black eyes staring back out again. “Has the Headmistress been informed?”

“Aye,” Ashbrook said with a nod. I have filled out all the appropriate paperwork and sent them off to Hogwarts as well as a special consideration to the Ministry to allow her to rewind her career at Hogwarts at the start of next year. It will give her family time to adjust and prepare her for her… first year, as it were.”

“May I see her, Healer Ashbrook?” Hermione asked softly.

The healer nodded grimly. Her mother is with her right now, but you both are on the visitor list. Please feel free. Just keep in mind… what I have told you.”

Hermione nodded and stood up. “Thank you, Healer Ashbrook.” She held out her hand.

The healer took her hand gently and grasped it. “I am sorry, Apprentice Granger. I know… I know she cared very much for you.”

Hermione nodded grimly. “I am glad she will recover,” she said, her eyes were black and her face emotionless. “That will have to be enough.”

Ashbrook gave a grim smile and stood. “Just so you know,” he said with a sadness. “The cure you gave my patients in the Dark magic ward sent thirty two people home with their families over the past six months. They were all the ones so close to edge of sanity and now they are recovering enough that their families can take them home and help them. There are others now that are improving. Slowly, so slowly… but they are improving. I just wanted you both to know how grateful I am, in lieu of the families that will never know why their loved ones came back to them. I know, and I thank you for it.”

Severus stood and nodded grimly.

“If we can find a way to harvest the blood without endangering the Re’ems, Healer Ashbrook,” Hermione said gently, “We will give you more of the potion to be used at your discretion.”

“It is all I could ask for, my friends,” the healer said softly. “You offer salvation to those who otherwise would have no hope at all. Any one you can save out of hundreds is one less bed occupied and one more family whose loved one returns to them. I will not condemn an entire race of golden oxen to death because the potioneer guilds want to make money on the formula. I will respect and honour your insuring that it does not come to pass, and I am honoured you hold trust in me to allow me to treat the few I can.”

Severus nodded and turned to leave with Hermione.

“Severus,” Ashbrook said in a tone that made both Snape and Hermione turn to look at him again.

“There was a time, years ago,” he said sadly, “when I chose what was easy instead of what was right. I knew what they were doing to you every day, and I said nothing. I did… nothing. I let myself be convinced that someone else would do what I did not have the bravery to do, and I am sorry for it. You have continuously proven to be the better man despite it all, and I…”

Severus turned his black eyes to stare Ashbrook in the eyes. “I was not guiltless in that war of attrition, Castor,” Severus replied softly. “I hold no guilt for you.” He turned to leave.

“How could you forgive me for allowing that torture to continue when I could have said something?” Ashbrook asked.

Severus looked down thoughtfully and then met his gaze. “Because I found someone who was willing to forgive me,” Severus answered, “even when I could not forgive myself.”

Ashbrook stared at him with a stunned expression.

Severus placed his hand to his Apprentice’s waist, gently guiding her forward as they both swept the room, leaving Ashbrook to stare at the place they had vacated.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione walked into the private room, and Molly Weasley stood up to meet her.

“Hermione,” Molly said, wringing her hands. “Did… did he tell you?”

Severus came in directly after, and Molly’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but straighted her posture.

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Weasley, he did,” she answered.

“My baby,” Molly said mournfully. “She’ll be twenty three before she ever takes her N.E.W.T.s.”

“But she will graduate, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said softly. “She will have survived, and she will have family that loves her very much.”

Molly turned away, staring at the plant in the room for a moment. “All because of Lucius Malfoy and that stupid, stupid diary,” she said in despair.

“Lucius paid for his crimes, Mrs. Weasley,” Severus said. “And so many more.”

Hermione walked past Molly as she went to see Ginny, leaving her and her Master to speak with each other.

She approached Ginny. She was playing a game of hover blocks, whose purpose was to build the tower before one of the main blocks disappeared and toppled the tower.

“Hello,” Hermione said, “May I join you?”

Ginny’s eyes grew wide as she saw Hermione, taking in her robes and stature as well as her dark Occluded eyes. She gulped. “Sure. I’m Ginevra, but my brothers all call me Ginny. What’s your name?”

“My name is Hermione,” Hermione answered her.

“That’s a odd name,” Ginny said, scrunching up her face.

“That’s okay,” Hermione replied. “I’m pretty odd, myself.”

“You look like a professor,” Ginny said. “I started school at Hogwarts, but I got sick and ended up here, so I have to wait and go to school next year instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hermione replied. “I’m sure you’ll do fine when you go back to school.”

“Your eyes are black,” Ginny said, staring at her intently. “Is that normal?”

“Normal for me at times,” Hermione answered, raising a corner of her mouth.

“Only at time?” Ginny asked.

“Sometimes they are brown,” Hermione answered.

“Oh,” Ginny said with a small frown. Then, she looked up again. “That’s kinda of cool having two eye colours. Mine are just brown.”

“There is nothing wrong with a nice consistent brown,” Hermione chuckled.

“Are you a Professor at Hogwarts?” Ginny asked. “You look like him… the man talking to my mum. He has a scowl on his face. I think… I think he taught one of my classes before. Professor… Snape. He yelled at me on my first day and took points.”

“Not yet,” Hermione answered. “He’s my Master. I am his Apprentice.”

“So… he’s teaching you how to teach?” Ginny asked.

“Mmhmm,” Hermione replied.

“So you will be teaching?” Ginny asked.

“Starting next year,” Hermione answered.

“So you will be a Professor!” Ginny said confidently.

Hermione closed her mouth and furrowed her brows.

:She has you there, my daughter. You passed your N.E.W.T.s, which means next year you start officially as a teaching Apprentice Professor as well,: Severus whispered into her mind, and Hermione shot a glance to where Severus had his arms crossed over his chest as he listening to Molly mutter about something.

“Yes, I suppose I will be,” Hermione answered, giving her father an accusatory glare. His amusement came through the link with a warmth that never reached his face when Molly was looking.

Ginny tilted her head and stared at her a bit. “You remind me of a friend I made in school,” Ginny said after a bit. She looked a lot like you, but she was younger like me, and she didn’t dress like a dreary professor.”

Hermione’s lip twitched. “And what did she dress like?”

Ginny frowned, thinking. “Like me!”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, I’m sure you’re friend would be glad she doesn’t dress like me, being dreary and all.”

Ginny nodded excitedly. “I can’t remember her name, but maybe I’ll see her when I can go back to school.”

Hermione flinched slightly. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

Ginny was fingering something in her hand. She was staring at it intently as if it were a puzzle. It was a yellow rose. “She gave me this, I think,” Ginny said. “I can’t remember her name, but I remember this.” She clutched it in her hand.

A flicker of emotion went across Hermione’s eyes. “Then you will always have a part of her with you then, yes?”

Ginny nodded after a bit, holding the rose both reverently and desperately at the same time.

A small equine face poked out from Ginny’s hair, and the small white winged horse nickered softly from her shoulder.

Ginny took her hand and quickly moved her hair over the small winged horse in a panic. “Don’t tell anyone, please!” she begged. “He’s my friend and… I don’t want them to take him away from me!”

Hermione felt a stabbing sensation in her heart. “They won’t take him from you, I promise.”

“You swear?” Ginny said, her eyes still panicked.

“I have a feeling he knows when to hide,” Hermione said softly. “He’s smart yes? Hides when people you don’t know come by?”

Ginny nodded. “You’re the first person he’s nickered at.” She lowered her hand and the little horse poked his head out again, nickering softly to Hermione.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Hermione asked, a cast of brown returning to her eyes.

Ginny nodded.

Hermione pulled back her hair and Little Vik chirped a greeting, poking his head out around Hermione’s neck and fluttered his wings. Vik was sporting Slytherin green ribbons and a tiny silver bell that day thanks to Draco. Little Vik jingled and trotted down Hermione’s arm and chirped at Ginny.

Ginny’s eyes were wide as she reached out to touch Vik, looking up at Hermione for approval.

Hermione nodded and smiled as Ginny patted the little hippogriff.

The little horse, however, got jealous, and trotted right down Ginny’s arm and placed himself under her hand, nudging Vik out of the way.

Vik, dislodged and no longer getting the pets he adored, fluttered back into Hermione’s hair and rubbed up against her neck for attention.

Hermione chuckled as she scratched the little hippogriff under the chin and between his wings.

“Does everyone have a friend like this?” Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh!” Ginny replied. “So, we’re special then!”

Hermione chortled softly. “I guess so.”

Molly was clearing her throat rather loudly from the corner, and Hermione lifted her brow as she looked towards the doorway. Molly apparently thought it was time for Hermione to leave, for whatever reason, and Hermione sighed.

“Looks like it’s time for me to go,” Hermione said. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ginny.”

“I guess I’ll see you when I get back to school then, Professor,” Ginny said innocently.

Hermione gave a small and sad smile. “Yes. You will.” She stood up and walked over to rejoin her Master.

Molly was already rushing in to fuss with Ginny, asking her questions, and riling the poor girl up with her ministrations.

Once Hermione and Severus were clear of the door, Hermione walked right into Severus and buried her face into her Master’s robes, a soft sob rising up in her throat as her shoulders quaked.

His arms were around her in an instant, pulling her into his familiar embrace as his hand gently stroked her hair.

“She has her life, my daughter,” he whispered softly into her hair.

Hermione clung to her father’s robes, sharing her relief that he was alive and far less damaged after the battle than Ginny. He had died, all things being said, but at least he came back with his mind in tact.

Hermione pulled back after a few minutes, taking in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, her brown eyes darkened into black as her controls slammed down on her mind.

“The irony is not lost on me, Master,” Hermione said after a bit.

“Which irony?” Severus asked.

“I’ll be teaching my old friend the classes that she’d complain about with me the most,” Hermione said with a quirk of her lip.

“Look at the bright side,” Severus said with a warmth in his voice.

Hermione looked up at him.

“You’ll know exactly when she’s slacking off in class,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he peered at her.

Hermione let out a snort and then it changed into a giggle and then a full blown laugh.

“She’s going to hate me so much,” Hermione laughed.

“Welcome to being a Snape, my daughter,” Severus chuckled, placing his hand on her back and guiding her down the hall.

Hermione didn’t stop laughing until they hit the apparition point, and she was still laughing when they appeared at the gates of Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Come in, child,” Desmondon rumbled softly as Hermione stood in the doorway.

The flighty vampire that escorted her to the door, cast his eyes downward and away in deference to the ancient vampire.

“Leave us,” Desmondon ordered, and the vampire disappeared without a word, scurrying off as if he was on fire.

“What brings you to our home, my dear?” he asked, voice like velvet. He gestured to the small sofa seat.

Hermione sat, knowing it was more of an order than a suggestion. She cast her eyes down, but extended a scroll to the Master vampire. “I come with an invitation, Master Desmondon,” she said respectfully.

“Oh?” he said, taking the scroll in his pale hands. The curved talons curled around the parchment with a slight scraping of the tips of his claws against the parchment. “Whatever invite would you have for an old vampire such as myself?” He broke the waxen seal on the parchment, not expecting her to answer. Unrolling the parchment carefully, he read the carefully written ornate script that covered the scroll’s surface.

“A wedding, child?” the vampire grinned, his cruel fangs showing as he did so. His animalistic face twisted strangely to make the smile happen. Had Hermione not seen the expression before, it would have been unnerving. “I see you made the wedding at sunset. How… considerate of you.” Desmondon’s voice was like a purr and velvet at the same time.

“I did not wish to insult you by inviting you to a wedding held at midday, Master,” Hermione said, tilting her head to the side. “Also, I do adore a good sunset.”

Desmondon chuckled. “I and my mate would survive the experience,” he said with amusement. “Alas, it would make me cranky.”

“I would rather you not be cranky, Master Desmondon,” Hermione confessed.

“You and… probably everyone else attending the wedding, I’m sure, regardless of whether they realise it or not,” he replied. “However, in regards to this, I believe my answer shall be to accept your gracious invitation.”

Hermione smiled and nodded her head. “I am gratified to hear it, Master,” she said.

“You seem quite tired,” he said, giving her an appraising look. “Has Severus been abusing you?”

Hermione shook her head. “Never, Master. I fear there has been a lot on my mind lately, though thankfully, not as much as I used to have on my mind a few months previous.”

Desmondon ran his fingers under his chin, tracing the line of it as he regarded her. “You should sleep here tonight, child,” he said softly. “I can promise you a deep and sound sleep that even the dead can envy. It will be long and dreamless, and you will feel much better in the morning.”

“That sounds heavenly,” Hermione admitted. “Usually my mind takes a while to settle, and then I end up dreaming about whatever I fell asleep thinking of.”

“I will send word to your Master then,” Desmondon said with a rumble. He had summoned a quilt and pillow to his hand from somewhere in the room, and part of Hermione wondered how often the vampire had guests that required quilts.

“I am many things, my dear,” Desmondon said as if reading her thoughts, “but I do take care of my guests.”

Hermione flushed. “Thank you.”

Desmondon placed the pillow on the end of the sofa and Hermione lay her head down upon it. He gently pulled the quilt over her. He extended one hand, gently placing it on her forehead, and then carefully brushing her eyes closed with his fingers. He left his hand in the middle of her face. “Sleep, child,” he said softly. “Sleep and be one with the Earth. May your thoughts be still and your mind at peace.” After a minute, Hermione’s breathing was already deep and slow. She was asleep.

The ancient vampire removed his hand from her face, pulling the quilt a little more over her so her head was partially covered.

Vik poked his head out and peered at the vampire curiously, giving a soft chirp. The vampire slowly drew his hand over the miniature hippogriff’s body

“Hello, my little friend,” he greeted, running his talon under the creature’s small chin. “Your mistress sleeps. Will you aide me in watching over her for me?”

Vik chirped dutifully, burrowing into her hair and starting his vigil.

Desmondon gave a small smile, laying his hand on Hermione’s head and slowly ran it across her hair. “Peace upon you, child. You deserve a little rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began to think that there had to be a price for the “cure” for Ginny and it couldn’t be something as easy as “take a potion/wave a wand” sort of cure. What she went though, I my mind’s eye, was quite insidious, dark, and ultimately mind rape. The price for being able to heal her mind after having the Dark Lord seeping into her brain for so long that it became her, was what you read. And, while I could argue that Ginny made some pretty crap decision all on her own without needing the Dark Lord to poke her to do them, there is also the idea Voldy was like the devil on her shoulder that had the angel from her other shoulder tied up and gagged. And… like the person who grew up being told something that turned out to be a lie… when the lie is gone, what it left? Anyway, that is how I saw it for Ginny. She does, in a way, have a gift few people get. A redo. She also gets to do it without having to worry about Voldemort in her head or trying to kill the people she loves. Bonus! Maybe, the change in relationship will be better for Ginny and Hermione. Hermione had changed so much that she wasn’t able to be the best friend Ginny needed/wanted. Perhaps, as her teacher/mentor they will get something better out of it.
> 
> I digress and I babble, and it’s 2am again. *headdesk* Sleep time for me. Yesssss. I seriously need my own Desmondon to put me to sleep. Think he would for me if I asked really nicely? Zzzzzz.


	95. Now and Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding? Wedding!

To all of my children in whom Life flows abundant  
To all of my children to whom Death hath passed his judgement  
The soul yearns for honour, and the flesh the hereafter  
Look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after.

-Answers from FFXIV

Chapter 95: Now and Forever

Time passed, but for once, it passed in a flurry and passed without Death Eaters, Voldemort, or some combination that involved either.

Ginny, thanks to a combination of the equivalent of Wizarding home schooling and an innovating new healing technique that Healer Ashbrook had started, was adapting well to the gaps in her memory.

Some of the memories, Ashbrook had slowly been “injecting” back into her. It was slow, painstaking, and very, very specific. Only the memories that were confirmed from multiple parties we able to be given back to her. There were some, he had warned them, that would not be restored to her, but there was hope for her, and it was more than she had been given months previous.

Hermione had come to terms with one of the memories that would not be given back to Ginny was memories of her. Memories of her home life away from Hogwarts, memories of her classes, memories of lessons learned without the specific connection to people were “easier” to place back in, according to Ashbrook. Emotional memories, however, relationships with people, and delicate social dynamics he was unable to restore. Emotions, he said, were far too personal and specific to one person. He could not confirm an emotion with another person, let alone multiple ones for the procedure to work due to the nature of emotions. No two people felt love in the same way, for example, nor with even the most common of emotions such as the appeal of taste of a favourite food.

Hermione was content that at least Ginny was not forced back to her eleven year old classes. She had big gaps in her memory, but she was functional, and her former classmates were sympathetic to her plight and seemed determined to help her any way they could in filling in the gaps with both old and new memories. When all was said and done, Ginny was only held back two years, which was a far cry from having to suffer through seven years of Hogwarts all over again.

To Ginny, however, Hermione remained Professor Granger, Apprentice to Master Severus Snape and Headmistress McGonagall. Hermione had become her teacher instead of her best friend, but while a certain wistfulness sometimes crossed Hermione’s face, Hermione watched Ginny become a far more outgoing young woman with her new group of friends.

It was Harry, ironically, that seemed to understand Hermione’s emotions the most on the matter. Ginny’s memories of Harry were few and far between. It had become very awkward for Harry, seeing how much she remembered of her family but not of him, but he too, much like Hermione, seemed to realise that if he were to choose this half amnesia over the fate of so many others during the wear, what Ginny had was a blessing. Ginny hadn’t suffered from the backlash the Dark Lord had channelled through all of his branded servants, and that in itself was a miracle given the mental hooks he had planted in her.

And so, what would have been Hermione’s last and final year at Hogwarts, passed quietly. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall became Headmistress McGonagall in the official capacity. Albus Dumbledore was retired with his equivalent of pension sent to his Gringott’s account. Everyone assumed the ex-Headmaster had finally taken to travelling the world and using up the years of paid vacation he accumulated in his tenure at Hogwarts. The castle itself seemed to bless the change in guard, bonding itself to Minerva as it once had with Albus long before the official announcement had been given.

As for Albus the goat, nothing Severus, Hermione, or Remus tried seemed to get that pesky cursed ring off the goat’s hoof, and Severus finally admitted that he had come up with the perfect permanent and uncurable curse of his lifetime: goatification. And for perhaps the second time in his life, Alastor Moody agreed with Severus that it had been Dumbledore’s own fault that he was goat to begin with. It could have been far worse. He could have death cursed himself from the real Horcrux. At least he was alive and obliviously happy.

Harry and Ron had succeeding in getting the appropriate N.E.W.T.s in order to go into Auror training together. Ron, having seen what had happened to his sister as well as having had to fight the Sleepers planted in his own House, had devoted himself to his studies more fervently in his last year, pulling up his borderline grades into definite improvements. Hermione and Severus had to agree that Ron had even paid attention and done well in their combined classes.

Perhaps the most significant happening in their seventh year was the blooming bond between Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. They were hardly ever seen without each other, and it had been Luna that went with him every weekend to see his parents at St. Mungo’s. Every visit had Neville coming back in tears, but they were not tears of pain. Slowly, ever visit, his parents were recovering. While they did not have full memories of what had happened after their attack, they were building new memories with their son and they were remembering them all. Their recovering was being held as a miracle, and no one was more believing of it than Neville Longbottom.

Whether in desire to follow in his parents footsteps or something entirely his own, Neville made the N.E.W.T.s and tested in to become and Auror as well, and Harry, Ron, and Neville became their own Auror Trainee trio. His parents, he said, were proud of him, and he was proud to be their son.

Neville and Luna remained steadfast friends to the Pack, and while they were not a part of the Pack itself, their friendship remained stalwart and loyal as if they were.

Ron had not taken the revelation well that Hermione considered Snape, the greasy git of the dungeons, both her Master and her father. Now that all the fighting was over, Hermione did not hide her affection for her father and Master. While she never made embarrassing public displays of affection to Severus, Ron had noticed the more subtle ones now that he was looking out for them. Ever time he saw her lean into or touch his hated Potions and DADA professor, he was reminded of all the horrible memories he had accrued in his years at Hogwarts.

Ron had, oddly enough, taken Hermione’s hidden apprenticeship from an early age in stride. The tension, however, sprung forth from Ron’s mistaken belief that Hermione had some teenage crush on her Master, and that was somehow aggravated by the Apprenticeship bond.

“Really, Ronald?” Hermione glared at her childhood friend as if her gaze would set his body to flames simply by their intensity.

“You can’t tell me that people haven’t thought it!” Ron protested. “You look at him like… like he’s your world. It’s not right Hermione. He’s your teacher!”

“He is my FATHER, Ronald!” Hermione hissed. “He’s my everything because that is what he’s been for the last six years of my life since second year. When I fell, he picked me up. When I was injured, he tended my wounds. When I was crying, he held me until my tears stopped. When was impertinent, he put me in my place. When I was happy, he shared it with me. He was everything to me, Ronald. He is still… everything.”

“What about Viktor?” Ronald yelled back. “You’re getting married to him. What does he think about you thinking that bloody Snape is your everything?”

“He shares in it!” Hermione bit back her desire to add “you imbecile” to it.

“What?” Ron’s eyes flickered with confusion.

“We are one,” Hermione said, her eyes cast in fire. “My father and I. Viktor and I. We are bound together. There is no one without the other. This marriage? It is not for us. It is for others, like you, to hear the vows and know what Viktor and I already know. And my father, he will be there to witness and rejoice with me, as he always has and always will.”

“But, Snape, ‘Mione!” Ron protested.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, you listen to me and you listen well,” Hermione growled. “I have watched you attach your face to Lavender Brown’s tonsils on numerous occasions, dark alleys, and not so empty Hogwarts corridors, and never once have I cornered you to justify your reasons for it. My wedding is coming up, and am inviting you to it because you are my friend, and that is what friends do. I would appreciate it, as my friend, if you had the decency to be happy for me instead of trying to tell me that the love for my father is some psychosis and that my future husband is somehow oblivious to it all!”

A flurry of emotions seemed to cross Ronald Weasley’s face as he turned a few shades of red. Then, in a flash of movement, Ron drew Hermione into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m sorry, Mione,” he whispered. “It’s just so much to take in.”

Hermione stiffened at first, but then slowly reached up to pat Ron on the back. She pulled away after a while and stared at Ron somewhat sadly.

“Where did we go wrong, Mione?” Ron asked softly, his eyes haunted. “When I used to think of the future, it was with you.”

Hermione straightened, looking through him. “We grew up, Ron,” she answered. “People change. Friendships change, evolve, break apart… It’s not anyone’s fault. It just happens. You’re with Lavender. You’re happy right?”

Ron seemed embarrassed. “Yes.”

“That’s what matters,” Hermione answered. “Don’t be embarrassed that you’re happy, or that someone makes you happy that isn’t who you expected it to be.”

Ron looked at her sheepishly.

“Even if she does call you… Won-won,” Hermione said, curling her lip in a perfectly Snape expression.

Ron at least had enough self-respect to blush at the nickname. “You’re really his daughter?”

“In all the ways that matter, Ron, yes,” Hermione said, the corner of her mouth twitched in response.

“It’s just… hard to see Snape as being… fatherly,” Ron confessed.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione corrected him automatically.

Ron stared at her for a moment, and they both burst into laughter. “You are his daughter,” he said with a sigh. “I can see it now, looking back, even now, I just didn’t want to. I’m sorry. Sorry that I accused you of…”

Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Ron, but if you ever accuse me of that again, I will drop you from fifteen thousand feet into Black Lake. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, Mione,” Ron said, his face wrinkling in shame.

Hermione scoffed. “Now, I have a class to teach, a wedding to plan, and Luna is determined to build me a nest for my future simurglets. I have a busy week planned. If you will excuse me.”

Ron nodded silently as the daughter of Severus Snape turned on her heels and exited the room, her robes billowing behind her.

Wait, Ron thought to himself. What the bloody hell was a simurglet?”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione stood in front of the mirror and stared into it nervously, her hands going across the satin fabric as if she expected it to vanish under her touch.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” her mother said, adjusting her hair pin. “I never thought I’d see the day, but it is beautiful, and so are you.”

Hermione fidgeted under her mother’s ministrations. “Thank you, mum.”

Her parents had recovered from their potion-induced amnesia, and as promised, Hermione had given them invitations to the wedding. Tonks and Remus had gone to pick them up and bring them to the place of the wedding.

Minerva, bless her tabby cat heart, had arranged for the festivities and ceremony to happen on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was there that Viktor and Hermione had met, fallen in love, and fought a war, and it seemed only fitting that it would be in the same place they had the ceremony.

It was Minerva herself that transfigured the decorative arches, seating, and lunar lights to light the pathways for everyone. The wedding’s time at sundown was baffling to many of the guests until the pale faces of Desmondon and his cloud of vampires attended, seating themselves both quietly and with somewhat smug expressions in the back rows of the bride’s invited guest seating.

As if the arrival of the vampires was not enough to startle the more human guests, Magorian let in his herd to the grounds from within the Dark Forest. All of them were draped in woven decorative plants to commemorate the occasion. They filed in to the places they were given at the front of the guest area, honoured with the most immediate family.

Mr. Granger looked absolutely wide-eyed with astonishment as Magorian and Bane moved in, gesturing with their body language to get their herd to spread out in an arch around the marriage dais.

Neville and Luna sat down next to Alice and Frank Longbottom. The two ex-Aurors looked around themselves with wonder, but when they looked back at Neville, their eyes were filled with emotion rather than blankness. Neville smiled at them with the sort of happiness that could not be contained.

Rufus Scrimgeour and Kingsley Shacklebolt sat with Alastor Moody and a practical squadron of Aurors that had been instrumental throughout the war. Both Hermione and Viktor had agreed that much of the leg work of the war had been done by countless Aurors who did their jobs without expecting recognition. By inviting them all to the wedding, they wanted to give their support to under-appreciated people who often worked behind the scenes far more often than in front.

The virtual sea of red-headed Weasleys packed into a few rows. Remus and Tonks sat beside Andromeda, her husband Ted, and a very scared looking Narcissa Malfoy, but Draco sat beside her, offering what comfort he could allow himself. The rift between mother and son was still not fully healed, but he was trying his best, and so too, was she. If anything, the bond between Narcissa and Andromeda had been rediscovered, and that alone, was a significant event. Pansy Parkinson sat with Draco, looking about as nervous as his mother.

One section of the seating was filled with the members from the Order of the Phoenix, and all of them were sitting together, speaking politely, and approving of the festivities. A few curious glances were cast at the white billy goat that was tied up at the end of the aisle, hoofs polished, and scarlet and gold bows in his beard, but none of them lingered on it for too long.

Sirius and Harry sat together with the Sky Brothers. Aleksander was looking quite debonair with his flaming hair and black suit. Lazar looked smug with his ocean blue and green hair and suit. Valko looked practically normal with his earthen toned everything, and Petya looked like he’d just fallen through a cloud in his white suit, silver blue hair, and baby blue tie.

The entire Bulgarian Quidditch team was seated behind the Sky Brothers, and with them was the proud and stately looking Tatiana and Tihomir Krum and a handful of other relatives. The couple exuded the sort of air that Lucius Malfoy could have spent his lifetime trying to emulate—stately, honourable, compassionate, and regal rolled into one.

The professors of Hogwarts sat together, and there was even a extra large seat for Hagrid. Students sat with them, both familiar old faces and some who had been mass included into the mass invitation to those who wished to come from Hogwarts.

When Mrs. Granger had returned to her seat with her husband, Mr. Granger kissed her on the cheek and got up to go to the back.

Viktor, dressed in the stately red and black dress robes of his family, walked up to the dais. Rufus Scrimgeour made his way up to the dais and took his place in the middle. Viktor’s dark eyes scanned the crowd, and his face was flushed with pride.

When the magical fanfare began, Trefoil, decked out in a woven blanket of red roses, walked down the aisle. She threw petals on the ground as she walked, her delicate hooves making bell-like chiming noises as she walked. She had beautiful silver and emerald ribbons tied into her mane and tail. She littered the path with petals before returning to her dam’s side. Chara placed her hand on her filly’s back and smiled as Trefoil looked up at her with pride.

When Hermione stood at the end of the aisle, however, it was as if the entire audience was holding its breath. Hermione, dressed in a formal gown that seemed to be created from clouds, walked forward, arms linked with both Mr. Granger and Severus Snape. Hermione pulled their arms close to her in her nervousness, and both Mr. Granger and Severus looked as proud as any one person could be. They glided down the rose petal strewn pathway up to the dais. When they reached the front, Mr. Granger and Severus sat down in their seats, and Hermione took her place beside Viktor in front of the Minister of Magic.

“It is my great honour to be here this day,” Scrimgeour announced. “To witness the union of this wizard, Viktor Krum with his witch, Hermione Granger. May all that are gathered here witness the bonds of love, respect, and magic that make up our world join together that nothing else may ever tear it asunder.”

Scrimgeour’s voice was drowned out by the rushing of the wind as both Viktor and Hermione spoke and nodded and spoke again.

As the wind died down, Viktor turned to Hermione and said, “I, Viktor Krum, take you, Hermione Jean Granger, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of our children, and my wife. I will be yours in both times of plenty and times of need. I will be with you in times of sickness as well as health. I will rejoice with you. I will cry with you. I will stand by you in times of failure and in times of triumph. I will stand by you in peace and in times of war. I promise to cherish you, to respect you, to care for and protect you, to comfort and to encourage you, and to stay with you always until the skies burn and beyond.” He placed a fiery ring upon her finger, bowing low to seal his oath with a kiss to her hand and her ring.

Hermione, tears in her eyes, said, “I, Hermione Jean Granger, take you, Viktor Krum, to be my friend my lover, the father of our children, and my husband. I will be yours in both times of plenty and times of need. I will be with you in times of sickness or in health. I will rejoice with you. I will share tears with you. I will stand by you in times of failure and in triumph. I will stand by you in peace time and those of war. I will protect your life with my own, always, cherish you until the day I am no more, encourage you, and stay by your side until the skies burn and beyond.” She placed the ring on his finger and dropped into a curtsy, placing her lips to the ring on his finger and kissing it.

Both Hermione and Viktor turned to the crowd, but then they approached Magorian and knelt in front of him.

Magorian placed one hand on each of their heads. “We come here today to unite two souls under the stars. As the stars shine brightly, may the combined radiance of these two souls join ever brighter.”

Magorian pulled out two pendants from a pouch on his belt. He placed one on Hermione and one on Viktor. “From this day, may your tread be a one under the sky, and may your wings carry you to the same clouds. May one always be there to lift the other to greatness, and may you always be there to catch the other if you should falter. May the planets witness your union and stars mark your bond that none may break what has been forged.” The pendants glowed brightly around their neck, and with a blinding flash, they sank into their sternums, leaving nothing but a round sigil marked upon their skin.

Magorian took his hands from their heads. “Rise, my friends.”

There was a rise in magic in the air, and the centaurs rose up in to a rear, kicking their forelegs out in salute.

_We are the centaurs of the Dark Forest_

_We bless the union of our herd mates and friends,_

_For they are the future beginning,_

_And we shall stand with them till the end._

 

A rise of magic rose behind Hermione and Viktor, forming the shapes of the rearing centaur. The gathered guests watched the magic gather around, feeling the power arching around them, yet blind and deaf to the song of the Pack that was calling around them.

Aleksander stood in the audience.

 

_I am Aleksander of fire._

_And I bless the union of comrades in arms,_

_For they are my brother and sister,_

_And with them, we shall not know harm._

 

A rise of magic flared, and a fiery bird fanned its wings to join the centaurs.

Lazar stood next to his brother.

 

_I am Lazar of water._

_And I bless this unification of life,_

_For they bring us their love of each other_

_In union of husband and wife._

 

A rise of magic flared, and a bird crafted of water joined the one of fire.

Valko stood next to his brothers.

_I am Valko of earth,_

_And I bless this union of two,_

_For together they unite us in service,_

_And create our futures anew._

 

A rise of magic flared, and a bird of earthen wings joined the others.

Petya stood next to Valko.

 

_I am Petya of air,_

_And I bless this union by far,_

_For their loves is vast and eternal,_

_And shall be emblazoned upon the stars._

 

A wispy bird joined the group as Sirius stood up.

 

_I am Sirius the dog,_

_And I bless the union with joy,_

_For at least dear Hermione is sane,_

_And didn’t decide to marry Malfoy._

 

A black wisp of a dog joined the group, and Remus stood up, glaring at Sirius with daggers.

 

_I am Remus the wolf,_

_And I howl for this union in love,_

_For theirs is a partnership once in a lifetime,_

_And their joy shall carry us above._

 

An ethereal wolf joined the group.

Draco stood, giving Sirius a poisonous glare.

 

_I am Draco the serpent,_

_And I bless this union today,_

_For as sure as the land meets the ocean,_

_None shall take this away._

 

A serpent entwined around the group of energy animals. Harry stood, shaking his head at his godfather.

 

_I am Harry the Ringtail,_

_And I rejoice in the joining of my friends,_

_For their lives have joined mine times uncounted,_

_And I shall stand by them till the end._

 

A winged raccoon joined the pack of gathering animals. Minerva stood from her sea of students and fellow professors.

_I am Minerva the cat,_

_And I bless this union with insight._

_May nothing they face be too great a challenge,_

_And may all darkness they face come to light._

 

A golden cat jumped in to join the swirling ethereal animals.

Severus stood beside Minerva.

 

_I am Severus the owl,_

_My wings spread to black out the sun,_

_May the shade of my wings bring you comfort,_

_And the bonds between you never be undone._

 

Hermione and Viktor faced each other, emotion written in their eyes as the Pack Song swirled around them.

 

_I am the Daughter of the Owl,_

_And I bind myself to you, my mate,_

_May my love for you never be challenged,_

_And we face together all that awaits._

 

_I am the Son of Tihomir,_

_He who embodies quiet and peace._

_May we both bring honour to our families,_

_And may the joy in our union never cease._

 

As a ethereal gryphon and simurgh joined the swirling animals, they all joined together in a bright swirling light that engulfed both Viktor and Hermione. They were surrounded completely, and the light caused the many gathered there to shield their eyes.

 

_We are the Pack of Black Lake,_

_May our songs rise high and go far._

_May the union of our gryphon and simurgh,_

_Be written in the celestial stars._

 

_We are the Pack of Black Lake,_

_And our footprints are plentiful and vast,_

_May none doubt the strength of our number,_

_As the time for suspicion has past._

 

Viktor’s mouth descended upon Hermione’s and they met with a passionate kiss. The bright light exploded outward like a supernova, encompassing all that were gathered with a feeling of peace. A joy filled their chests to bursting, causing countless smiles.

Scrimgeour staggered up on the dais, and seemed to collect himself, his hand rising to his chest as he tried to stifle the broad grin that was rising up within him

“Lady witches and gentle wizards, I present to you, Lord Viktor Krum and his Lady, Hermione Krum,” he announced, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

There was an explosion of cheers as Viktor and Hermione walked arm in arm down the pathway towards the reception tent.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione and Viktor stood out from the celebrations going on under the reception tent, watching the last of the sun disappear under the horizon. The small lunar lamps that Minerva had created glowed softly to keep people from tripping over themselves.

People were mingling together without drama, and even the vampires and centaurs were being treated with the respect due another sentient being. Whatever prejudice have lurked in any one of them seemed to have been flushed away by the magical supernova that had engulfed the guests of the wedding.

Trefoil had actually made some new human friends and was romping around with a few of the younger children. Chara watched over her with amusement, happy to see her filly branching out and making new friends at last.

Magorian, Bane, and Firenze were standing side by side with Rufus Scrimgeour and Kingsley Shacklebolt, discussing matters of keeping the lands of the centaur as their own and to find a way to keep the channels of communication open between them so the long years of the lack did not happen again.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger seemed overwhelmed by the amount of magical everything around them, but much to Hermione’s relief they had found friends in Alice and Frank Longbottom. The quartet was talking avidly with each other about their children, life, and so many minor things that meant so much to the each of them. Neville gave Hermione such a heartbreakingly emotional smile that Hermione couldn’t help but feel happy for him. At least, Neville had his parents back. They were not fully healed, but they were healing, and it was enough for him to know that one day in the future, they would be whole again.

Desmondon approached them silently, his mate stood beside him in a manner that seemed almost as silent and still as he was.

“Master Desmondon,” Hermione said with a bow, dropping into a respectful curtsy. “Thank you for coming.”

“It was great indeed to be a witness to such a great event, child,” Desmondon said, his voice both a purr and the scrape of velvet against satin. “This is Melaena, my mate, whom you have managed not to meet until now.”

Hermione curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Melaena,”

The elder vampire nodded with a feral smile. She was not quite as animalistic in the face as Desmondon, but her age was unmistakably older than any of the other vampires that had come with them. “You may call me Melaena, Lady Krum,” the vampire said, gifting her with the use of her name informally.

“Please, Hermione,” Hermione replied in turn.

Melaena smiled, a bit of her fangs showing. “I wish you the most long life without conflict, Hermione,” she said softly, her voice like the whisper of night. “May you and your mate both thrive when others can only dream.”

“Thank you, Melaena,” Hermione answered respectfully.

“You do us great honour for attending our wedding,” Viktor said to the elder vampires.

“We have not been invited to a wedding in… many decades,” Desmondon said with a chuckle. “Most consider inviting a vampire to their wedding an omen of Death.”

Hermione smiled. “Their loss, then. Death comes to whom He chooses. If He were to decide to crash my wedding, I would only ask that at He at least take a piece of cake to commemorate the occasion and give me but a moment to bid my husband goodbye before meeting him on the other side.”

Desmondon tilted back his head and laughed, made slightly eerie by his bestial face and cruel fangs. “Dear child. I think Death finds you too interesting to come calling so soon. One day, perhaps, when your life has been long and all things have been done, your body weary, and your life slowing… perhaps then Death will come to your side and take you up, cradled to His breast like a long lost child, and carry you to what waits beyond.”

Hermione tilted her head up. “I think that would an honourable way to die and less stressful than the Killing Curse, Master Desmondon.”

Desmondon smiled swiftly. “You need not worry of such things now, child. You have won a war, and you are joined with your mate for a lifetime. It is not so small a thing to rejoice in.”

Desmondon pulled out a long box from his black robes, his bony talons curved around it as he handed it to her. “A gift, my child, for your future,” Desmondon said with a swift smile.

Hermione took the box with reverence.

“You need not open it now,” the vampire said, placing his hand upon his mate’s shoulder. “We must fly, I fear. The young grow hungry quickly, and I would not wish them to lose control at your wedding party.”

Hermione looked down at the gift box and bit her lip. “Master?”

“Yes, child?”

“May I… hug you?” Hermione asked.

Desmondon lifted his brows but opened his arms to her.

Hermione stepped into his embrace and gave the vampire a genuine hug, crushing him towards her like an old friend she had not seen in years. “Thank you, Master.”

Desmondon’s talons stroked her hair gently, his coal black eyes stared out over the lake as he held her close to him.

Hermione stepped back, feeling a bit self conscious.

Desmondon’s eyes flickered with amusement. “You are truly your father’s daughter, that you could find comfort in hugging me,” he said warmly. He stuck out his hand to Viktor. “I will not embarrass your manliness, young Viktor, by expecting a hug, so I will give you my hand instead.”

Viktor blushed and took Desmondon’s hand. “Thank you, Master.”

The ancient vampire nodded to him, something unspoken passing between them.

Desmondon turned with his mate and after a silent signal, his vampires gathered around them, ready to leave. Strangely, however, they all picked up a piece of wedding cake from the table before leaving.

Hermione gave Desmondon and his vampires a curious look.

Desmondon gave her a knowing smile. “To commemorate the occasion, child,” he explained. He gave her the smallest of winks, and in a flash of vampire speed and magic, all of the vampires were gone, along with their pieces of wedding cake.

Hermione exchanged glances with Viktor. Viktor gave a gallant shrug. Who was going to refuse an ancient vampire like Desmondon and his cloud of vampires pieces of wedding cake? Surely, not anyone present.

Hermione untied the delicate silver ribbon on the ebony box and tugged it free. She lifted the lid on the box to reveal a scroll. Brows furrowed, she lifted up the scroll and unrolled it, reading it. She stared at it unbelieving.

She read it again.

Blink.

She gave it to Viktor to read it.

Viktor stared at it and read it again.

He rolled up the scroll reverently.

“The deed to all of the land and property that connects the Dark Forest to its sister forest,” Hermione whispered. “The land that kept the centaurs from connecting with their neighbouring herds.”

“If ve settle there,” Viktor said. “Ve never have to worry about being seen by Muggles. Safe place to raise mutant children. Haven for centaur allies. Haven for animagi like us.”

“Safe place for Remus and Tonks to raise their cubs,” Hermione said. “Where the wolf can run free without worry.”

“Is vonderful gift,” Viktor said. “Beyond vonderful.”

“We can build a home, all of us, together.” Hermione said with tears filling her eyes.

Viktor pressed his palm to her cheek. “Build future together. “Pack future. Herd future.”

Hermione pressed her lips to his. “Our future,” she murmured into his mouth.

“Together,” Viktor agreed.

Hermione melted into Viktor’s arms, pressing her head into his warm shoulder.

Their embrace was broken by the sound of Fred and George Weasley yelling as Little Vik was darting out of the tent with their wands, having apparently stopped them from some sort of wedding mischief.

Vik darted into Hermione’s hair, wands and all.

Fred and George ran past them, on the lookout for the miniature hippogriff.

Hermione and Viktor exchanged glances.

Viktor reached into Hermione’s hair and scratched the little hippogriff under the chin. “I tink… best thing ever made together.”

Hermione purred into his ear. “Hrm, we might be able to team up again and create something new.”

Viktor raised his brow. “Oh? Vat are you thinking?”

Hermione grinned at him. “Luna made us a nest for our baby simurglets. It would be a shame to have it go to waste.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled as he descended upon Hermione with a kiss.

Mission accepted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ermahgahd wedding. You have no idea how hard it is to write a wedding for a simurgh and a gryphon! (well… maybe you do, but I sure as heck had to stew over it for about a week!)
> 
> Random note: Not everyone at the wedding heard the song (but they did see the ethereal animals come out.) They will probably dismiss it as being some sort of Patronus spawning together.
> 
> Anyway… back to homework for me. Hope you liked the chapter, folks!
> 
> A/N: Geez I type “with with” a lot. What is wrong with my brain/typo fingers. ARRGH! Corrected!


	96. Interesting Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione discuss their disbelief.  
> Hermione has visitors in her garden.

Chapter 96: Interesting Developments

“Do you see what I’m seeing?” Draco asked as he leaned in, cradling his tea cup.

“That depends, brother,” Hermione said. “Are we sharing a folie à deux ?”

Draco snickered. “I never thought I’d see it, sister.”

Hermione peered over her tea and watched her father sharing tea with a stately looking witch. “She is quite attractive. She has that commanding presence you like to throw around from time to time.”

“Psh,” Draco answered.

“She’s a lot like Viktor’s mum,” Hermione admitted. “I really can see the resemblance. Utterly unflappable too.”

“You think?” Draco said. “She just walked right up to Uncle Severus at the reception and said, ‘You make a very convincing owl. Would you like to walk with me by the lake?’ You should have seen how flushed your father’s face became!”

Hermione smirked, having remembered the flush of disbelief that flitted through their mental bond the night of her wedding. “I think he’s finally found his match,” Hermione said, wiggling her eyebrows. “She dishes out the snark worthy of my father, takes no nonsense, and has a strong sense of family.”

“Do you think she’s an animagus?” Draco asked.

“A bear,” Hermione speculated. “Fierce protector.”

Draco sipped his tea. “Hnn.”

Hermione kicked his foot under the table.

Draco sputtered. “What was that for, sis? That’s not very professorly behaviour, Professor Krum.”

Hermione clucked her tongue at him. “I guess we’ll know if she’s a keeper if the Pack Song starts to sing to her.” She watched her father and his friend retreat into the cottage as the sun started to bake down on them.

Draco shook his head. “I’d prefer if it happened before we all suddenly discover she’s there. Like… ‘oh hey, when did you get here?’ sort of thing.”

“Our Pack Song hasn’t led us wrong yet, Draco,” Hermione said. “You have to at least admit that.”

Draco grumbled something about freaks with antlers.

Hermione kicked Draco again.

“Ow,” Draco protested. “Damnit woman!”

“You finish building your house?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” Draco said. “Outside anyway. Inside will take some time to decorate. I’m pants at decorating. That was always my mother’s thing. I’d invite her over to do it, but, then I’d have to explain why we’re all living out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by forest.”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, it’s not like we don’t all sleep together anyway,” Hermione confessed. “Why does that sound more dirty than it is?”

“You’ve been hanging around with those Weasel twins,” Draco sniffed. “Their minds are always in the gutter.”

“I suppose so,” Hermione said, “but it’s not like I can ignore them. We are in business together, after all.”

“Speaking of twins,” Draco said, giving her a look.

Hermione slid her eyes over to regard him.

“May I feel your belly?” Draco asked.

Hermione smirked and moved over so Draco could place his hand on her swollen belly.

“Oh! A kick!” he said. “And another!”

“They’re going to come out champion kickboxers,” Hermione said.

Draco gave her an odd look.

“Muggle thing,” Hermione said. “People who fight with their legs.”

“Ah,” Draco said, shaking his head. “You may have a point there.” He stared into the garden, eyeing the various plants and fruit trees. “This was such a wonderful gift from Desmondon.”

Hermione nodded. “A safe place for us to… be us.”

Draco nodded. “There was a time when all I ever saw myself in was Malfoy Manor, but this place… this is all I think I’ll ever need.”

“What did you do with Malfoy Manor?” Hermione asked, brow raised.

“I gave it to mother to deal with,” Draco said. “She at least has memories there she liked, so I wanted her to be able to take her time figuring out what she wanted to do with it.”

Hermione nodded. “Things any better for you two?”

Draco sighed. “Somewhat. She is trying to be there for me, but usually it’s me being there for her, and I’m still bitter about that entire sacrifice your son to the Dark Lord thing.”

“Can’t really blame you there, Draco,” Hermione said with a nod.

“It’s odd that we all have our own little cottages out here for privacy, but then we all end up piling up Severus’ Lair to sleep,” Draco said with a chuckle.

“At least we all have places in case we have company?” Hermione speculated.

Draco shrugged. “Seen Lupin lately? I heard Tonks is getting ready to pop too.”

“Draco, that’s a horrible mental image,” Hermione scolded. “I do not wish to imagine myself popping in order to have these mutants.”

Draco laughed.

“I think he’s been busy too, trying to contact the straggler werewolves out there that were left behind when the others joined the Death Eaters,” Hermione said. “Last I heard, their condition wasn’t good. Half of the ones he knew were out there were already found by bounty hunters. No potion. No Pack. No control. Some of them attacked a small village down the river, went after some children. Aurors had to fight them. They won’t see the outside again, probably. Murder is still murder.”

Draco shook his head. “Pity. I’m glad Remus doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Hermione nodded. “You and me both. He has so much to live for now. We all do.”

Draco agreed.

There was a rustling nearby, and Hermione saw the familiar outline of Trefoil bounding out of the forest like a spring deer. She cantered up to the garden fence and nickered a greeting.

“Trefoil! Chara! Come in!” Hermione greeted back.

The two centaurs let themselves in the gate, which was there more to keep the deer out than the centaurs. Nothing irritated Hermione more than deer eating her green beans, and the perpetrators usually ended up being eaten with said green beans.

A wave from the forest edge caught Hermione’s attention. “Magorian! Bane! Welcome!”

The centaurs let themselves in, bringing baskets of roasted nuts from their caches of spoils.

“We bring you chestnuts, sister,” Bane said as he side stepped a ground squirrel that got under his hooves.

“Wonderful,” Hermione replied. “Thank you so much! Please, help yourself to the garden! There is much to be had now that the deer aren’t eating half of it.”

Magorian laughed. “But we ate well when you caught them at it, Hermione. So none of us are complaining.”

Hermione grinned.

Bane unloaded the baskets of chestnuts and picked up the empty baskets by the gate and started to pick produce from the garden. “I never thought I would thank a vampire for the opportunity to walk out of the forest without fear and raid our herd-sister’s gardens.”

Draco laughed. “She’s been learning too much from Neville. Oh, he says if you wish, he has watermelons ripening, if you wish to take some back to the herd.”

“Watermelons!” Trefoil exclaimed with glee. She jumped the fence and galloped off to where she knew Neville’s garden was.

“Well, we know where she’s going,” Bane said with a snort.

Hermione laughed.

Magorian was plucking countless ripened cherry tomatoes from the vines. “I spoke with Bethoran in our neighbouring herd a few weeks ago,” he said as he plucked. “His herd had thought us dead because we had not parlayed in so long. It was a relief to know that other herds still roam the forests. Even as territorial as we are, we are not ones to see our centaur brethren driven from their ancient lands.”

Hermione and Draco nodded. “Will you be visiting often?”

“Much more regularly now,” Bane said. “This stretch of land had been so long under Muggle control that we could not come within sight of it, lest someone see what they should not. To see it restored to the forest it was, and have our herd’s allies close… it is a gift beyond measure.”

“I am glad it could be so, my friends,” Hermione said. “I’m not sure how Desmondon did it, but I will not question such a priceless gift. There are some secrets best left to the ancient.”

Magorian nodded. “There is more to the vampire lord than he lets on, but for someone so ancient, secrets are probably one thing of many he keeps.”

Hermione chuckled. “True.”

Trefoil leapt back over the fence, carrying three watermelons in her arms. She nickered happily, placing them in the baskets by the gate. She trotted over to Hermione and put her arms around her mercilessly. “Hermione!”

“Oof!” Hermione grunted. “Oh, now I get a hug. Watermelons rate higher than me.”

Trefoil nickered an apology, combing Hermione’s hair with her hands.

Hermione grabbed the centaur filly with her arms and hugged her tight. “It’s fine, love. I love watermelons too.”

Trefoil grinned. She peered at Hermione’s stomach. “May I?”

“Of course,” Hermione chuckled.

Trefoil bowed down on her front legs to press her head against Hermione’s belly. Her pointed ears flicked as she listened carefully. She pulled away suddenly. “They kicked!” she laughed.

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “They do that a lot.”

“It is normal,” Chara said as she picked peas off the vines. “Trefoil was a kicker too.”

Trefoil nickered in embarrassment.

“Consider it a trait of healthy foals,” Bane said, collecting from the nearby fruit tree.

Chara nodded in agreement.

“I’m going to have a sister! Or maybe a brother!” Trefoil announced proudly.

Hermione and Draco looked up. “Oh?”

Chara blushed and walked over, positioning herself so Hermione and Draco could have a listen.

Hermione and Draco placed their heads against her belly and listened intently. Then, suddenly, a kick hit the side of her womb, sending ripples against her skin.

Hermione and Draco laughed. “They’re a kicker!”

“See?” Bane said. “Sign of a healthy foal.”

Chara nickered and flicked her tail to rid herself of the flies.

“I have something to help with the flies, if you would indulge me,” Hermione said.

“Oh?” Chara perked her ears. The other three centaurs were perked with curiosity as well.

Hermione stood up and walked over to the cottage door and opened it, plugging up a flask of something from behind the door. She shook it, unstoppered it, and sniffed it. Tilting the flask to dribble a drop onto Chara’s hind quarters, the liquid blended into her fur and skin, smelling slightly of citrus.

The flies that were annoying her, however, buzzed off, deciding instead to pester Bane and Magorian.

“Argh,” Bane said. “Now I must beg you to give whatever you gifted our Chara to me!”

Hermione laughed, dropping one drop onto Bane, then one on Magorian, and one on Trefoil. All three centaurs looked at her with relief.

“Whatever magic you blessed that concoction with, dear sister, I praise the stars that it came to you,” Magorian said.

Hermione held the flask out to him. “Please take it. It will last you for months, as you only need a drop. Father and I can brew more.”

“You are priceless beyond words,” Magorian said, tucking the flask into his basket with care.

Hermione reached down to pick up the basket of chestnuts, but Draco was ahead of her.

“Hands off,” Draco admonished. “You’re not allowed to do heavy lifting.”

Hermione clucked her tongue. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid!”

“Consider yourself an honorary invalid,” Draco said, carrying the chestnuts into the cottage for her and placing it on the counter.

Magorian and Bane laughed wholeheartedly.

Hermione facepalmed.

“We would even carry you upon our backs due to you delicate condition,” Bane said with a wink.

“Pregnant!” Hermione growled. “Not incapable of moving on my own!”

Chara laughed from the pepper patch. “Just wait until you have your foals,” she said. “You’ll have visitors from the herd every day all trying to dote on you and fuss over your foals.”

Hermione chuckled. “It might be nice having extra sets of hands and hooves. Luna is convinced I’m having simurglets instead of human children, and that will limit the usual baby sitters.”

Chara laughed. “We shall be here whenever you need. The herd takes care of their own.”

Hermione grinned at Chara.

“I’ll help!” Trefoil announced.

Hermione gathered Trefoil into a hug as the filly nickered into her hair. “I’m glad to have you, Trefoil.”


	97. What Came First, the Simurglet or the Egg?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's time to have those kids has finally arrived, but what exactly is she having?

Chapter 97: What Came First, the Simurglet or the Egg?

Hermione lay on her side, her sides heaving as she took in her breaths. Every so often she would moan, but it came out as a combination of a low growl and scream.

The female centaur had dug her out a shallow “bowl” in the shade of the forest, lined it with the softest moss and leaves they could find, and built a lean to over it. Chara had insisted it was the most comfortable way to give birth, but that didn’t seem to matter to any of the Pack’s males who were restlessly sitting by the fire looking absolutely shell-shocked.

The male centaurs gathered around them, offering their support, sharing their stories of their first time when their mate was laden with foal. Remus, who had spontaneously decided to marry his witch before she changed her mind, had a quiet and joyous ceremony shortly after what was Hermione and Viktor’s honeymoon,

Sirius had ribbed his best mate that the old werewolf hadn’t wasted much time with their honeymoon, considering how close in term Tonks and Hermione’s pregnancies seemed to be. As embarrassed as the werewolf was, Tonks was utterly proud of her marriage and the end result, which Chara promised would keep the witch on her toes, despite Tonk’s insisting that nothing would change.

Hermione’s scream was a half roar, and both Viktor and Severus turned pale at once.

“Go to her, you silly men. She is carrying your children and grandchildren,” The no-nonsense woman admonished, looking both matronly and amused. “Go, go, go,” she said, pushing the haunted looking Severus Snape and Viktor along towards where one gryphon animagus was dealing with the pains of childbirth.

Tonks looked on with amusement as the two males practically slithered towards where Hermione was, looking like admonished puppies. “You’re the only one, save Hermione, that can get the both of them to do something together, and that includes beating a hasty retreat. Viktor tells us that his mother is fierce and unflappable. Apparently his aunt is not so different.”

The woman tilted back her head and laughed. The bell-like sound mixed with the sound of Hermione’s cries. “In Bulgaria, we are taught the value of family, strength, and compassion. Surely, it is not so different here?”

“Perhaps not, but none so intimidating as you, Veronika,” Tonks said with a smile.

“You bring a smile here,” Magorian said, pointing to his chest, “in the heart of our Owl Master. “We once thought that a dream only in our own hearts for him.”

Veronika brushed her hair back and she sat down next to Tonks to wait. “It is because of her, you see,” she woman said without jealousy. “She paved the way for me. I… only followed the path she had marked so well.”

Draco reached into the basket of apples and passed them around. “I think we are all glad she wormed her way under his prickly exterior,” he said, biting into the apple. Draco’s expression was calm and content.

“It was mutual,” Magorian said, looking skyward. “Their hearts waited for each other together. Healed together. And now, look at the fruits of their combined strength, and the lives the Owl Master’s daughter brings to us while we are united. Surely, this this the path written in the stars for us, for never have we been been so strong.”

“And more lives to come,” Firenze said as he walked up with wood for the fire. He dropped it off his back to the ground. He looked at Tonks and Remus with a very smug looking grin.

Remus flushed, but Tonks squeezed his hand tightly. “You will be by my side when our son or daughter comes, won’t you, Remus?”

The werewolf flushed and nodded in barely contained terror.

“Perhaps it will be a litter,” Bane said, looking thoughtful.

It was Tonk’s turn to blush as she rubbed her distended belly.

Hermione gave a roaring eagle scream that sounded all the more terrible coming from her human throat, and the humans and centaurs looked up.

The elder centaur females clucked to themselves, pulling the heated water off the fire and carried it away to where they had Hermione sequestered.

“Looks like it is time,” Veronika said with a knowing smile. “My sister, Tatiana sounded much the same just before she gave birth to Viktor.”

Draco’s eyes widened even as he winced at the sound of Hermione’s exclamations. “I hope it’s quick. My uncle could barely hold himself together when she was in the hospital when she was unconscious, let alone screaming.”

Veronika gave Draco an understanding smile. “You all make it sound like pregnancy is more scary than your previous problem with the Dark Lord.”

Hermione’s yell pierced the air.

Draco looked back at Veronika. “Can you blame us?”

The Bulgarian witch laughed and bit into her apple, saying nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione was ready to be done with it. Nine months later, laying on her back in a bowl of, admittedly comfy, moss, she felt her body contract against her will, and a combination of pain and something indescribable shot through her.

The herd females were taking turns patting her face with warm cloths, and Severus had one of her hands, and Viktor grasped the other. She clenched her hands on theirs with every contraction, screaming in both pain an cathartic release. The scent of her mate and her father kept her focused, even though a part of her tried to retreat to a place where the pain wasn’t so horrible.

But, with each contraction, she felt Viktor’s hand squeeze hers back. He whispered to her in Bulgarian, his voice only a whisper in her ears, but his mental presence was strong even with the sense of his fear for her pain.

And Severus, ever present and ever her father, grasped her hand. He was a man who was both strong in resolve and terrified that he would break her. The dichotomy made her smile, even as she let out a chain of words in Bulgarian that made her sound like a sailor that just fell off the old world sailing ship.

Severus’ mental admonishment at her sudden lapse into profanity caused Hermione to laugh despite herself. Another contraction and she swore she was going to tear off mate’s and her father’s hands, but they knelt beside her, their hands in hers, their other hands stroking her head simultaneously.

Tears went down Hermione’s face, but it wasn’t the pain as much as it was here, between the two greatest loves of her life that had faced the Wizarding world’s greatest darkness, that she felt at peace. They were now facing the greatest light of their combined lives—bringing forth life of their own.

Hermione screamed, her voiced was bestial and inhuman. Half of her hair was combined with her feathers. Deep sienna fur was crawling down her arms as her hands hovered somewhere between human witch and gryphon. She bellowed, her legs thrashing as the female centaurs fussed over her, keeping her from hurting herself and ignoring her curses that she just wanted them to cut her open the Muggle way and be done with it. It was probably a good thing that they were in the middle of centaur territory far away from the sensitive ears of Muggle and Wizarding kind alike. Muggles would think there was a murder going on, and she wasn’t sure magic users would that far behind in that shared revelation.

:Just a few more great pushes, my daughter,: Severus whispered into her mind, giving her calm while she wanted to take her armour to her own belly and release the pressure. He looked down into her eyes, and Hermione felt that connection shared between them surge between them. She felt Viktor’s warmth join with his, and their combined resolve to see her through anything gave her the strength to steel herself for a great push.

:I love you,: Viktor said, his dark eyes met hers as his hand soothed her forehead with a cloth.

Hermione heaved, her muscles united in purpose, and she pushed, moving to expel at least one of her progeny before the instinct to shift completely into her other form took her up.

There was a great pressure between her legs, and a gush of fluid and blood, and one of the elder centaur females named Mulberry scooped up the babe, washed them up for the first time, and had them bundled in a blanket and pressed into Viktor’s arms. “It’s a male,” Mulberry congratulated her.

Hermione was panting as Viktor brought the babe down for her to see, his black eyes and hair reminded her so much of the two males that shared the bond with her. “Hello, Severus Tihomir Krum,” Hermione said, tears running down her face. “Welcome to the world.”

Severus, the elder, stared disbelieving at the sight of his grandchild, then stared at Viktor and Hermione with disbelief. “Severus?” he questioned.

Viktor shook his head at him. “After bravest man we ever know. Loving father. Will be loving grandfather.” He handed the bundle to Severus who stared down at the wide black eyes of Severus Tihomir Krum.

“Hello,” he said softly. The babe took his finger in his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed, the contractions taking her again.

Draco stumbled over, with a panicked look strewn across his face. “Ari? What’s wrong?”

“I want this other child out of me now, and hold your godchild in your arms, so I can squeeze the life out of my father’s hand again!” Hermione yelled, not realising that she bellowing the first of her sentence in English and the last in Bulgarian.

Draco flushed. “Godchild?”

Severus snickered at him with a very Slytherin smile. “Meet your godfather, Severus Tihomir Krum,” he said softly, passing the babe to Draco before taking Hermione’s hand again.

Draco stared down at the black eyed bundle in his arms with a combination of emotions. “Hi,” he said meekly.

Hermione screamed, tremors taking her as she tried to relieve herself of that one last stubborn child who was trying to make her womb a permanent residence.

Hermione clutched her father and mate’s hand, letting out an eagle scream of defiance. So help me, child of mine, it seemed to say. You will greet the world with your brother now, not later.

Then, as if to reluctantly follow her demands, the second child of Viktor and Hermione Krum came out to greet the world.

Mulberry was ready for the second act with a towel and wash basin, and she had the crying and protesting child in her mother’s arms, even as Hermione worked on the slightly less demanding duty of expelling the afterbirth.

The moment the babe’s eyes met her mothers, however, her dark brown eyes widened and her crying stopped. She stared into her mother’s face, enraptured.

“Hello, Lily Tatiana Krum,” Hermione said softly, cradling the child in her arms. “Welcome to the world.” She stared at her wide-eyed daughter with a smile. She handed the baby to Viktor who fussed over her as Severus helped Hermione recover herself. The elder centaur females helped clean her up, changed the bedding of the bowl she was lying in, and gave her something to drink from a small bowl.

Hermione’s breathing became less strained as after she drank the liquid, feeling much better after her ordeal.

“Congratulations on two healthy foals,” Mulberry said, touching her arm and rubbing it. Hermione shared a look both weary and exhaulted.

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “Harry James Potter!” she bellowed after a moment.

Harry tripped over a log getting to her side from wherever it was that he was hiding himself to avoid her spill over wrath.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked, feeling kind of stupid. The Pack Song was alive within them all, and it was joyous, so a part of him knew she was not in trouble or in any danger.

“Shouldn’t you be holding your goddaughter?” Hermione sniffed at him, regaining the expression that marked her as a Snape for life just as much as she were Krum.

Harry looked wide eyed as Draco snickered at him. “Fair’s fair, Ringtail. I couldn’t avoid it either,” he said, gesturing to the babe in his arms.

Harry shakily embraced the cooing girl child, feeling his heart melt the moment her eyes met his. A warmth flowed between them, singing the kinship of the Pack and so much more than that.

“Meet Lily Tatiana Krum,” Viktor said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She likes you.”

Lily reached up with both hands and one side slapped Harry upside the face and the other tried to go up his nose. Harry sputtered.

“Perfect match,” Hermione chuckled.

“Hello, Lily,” Harry said warmly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Lily cooed and fussed, patting his face as if to memorise every contour.

And just when all of the gathered around Hermione thought all was done, Draco and Harry gave a simultaneous cry of wonder.

In Draco’s arms was a wriggling simurglet, his miniature eagle head slamming into Draco’s chest, looking for a place to nurse. His tiny peacock tail swished back and forth outside the blanket as his talons and claws got tangled up in the blanket.

In Harry’s arms was the twin, her puppy face licking Harry under the chin as her pudgy puppy and lion cub-like body wriggling against him. Her mini lion tail smacking into him from left to right as she tried to channel all her adoration into furious licking.

Simurglets.

Miniature freaks of nature.

Hermione and Viktor exchanged a look that was so full of love and fate, that their wholehearted laughter drew the rest of the herd and the pack to investigate.

Hermione sprawled on her side in gryphon form as Harry and Draco dropped Lily and Severus the Younger against their mother’s side, guiding them to the line of teats that awaited them to take their first meal.

Their audience forgotten, both simurglets affixed themselves to their mother’s breasts as their mother preened them with her beak and then laid back on the ground, her wing cast over them to protect them from the chill.

Viktor fell onto all fours and growled softly, nuzzling into his mate. He snuffled each of his mutant animagus progeny proudly, grooming them gently with his tongue, and then curled up beside Hermione, grooming her dutifully before laying his head over her back with a contented sigh.

As Bane peaked under Hermione’s half extended wing to see her children fighting over each other to find the “perfect” place to nurse, he let out a loud guffaw. “I knew it!” he crowed. “You owe me a basket of chestnuts, Firenze!”

The palomino centaur looked embarrassed at having been caught betting on the outcome of the gryphon and simurgh’s children. Magorian slapped Firenze and Bane on the back.

Veronika put her arm around Severus, startling him. “A proud grandparent at last, dear Severus?”

Severus met her eyes, somewhat dumbly. He shook his head, his black eyes filled with more emotion that he’d probably ever shown in the last few decades combined.

A silver tabby cat padded in from the foliage, tail up proudly as she walked, one miniature hippogriff sitting on her back as she walked. She head bumped into Viktor and Hermione before burrowing under Hermione’s wing to inspect her grand babies.

“Whatever will the Wizarding world think if they knew two children barely out of the womb had inherited their parent’s affinity to Animagi magic?” Remus said with a little wonder. He smiled at the two simurglets, who were cuddling with their grandmother tabby in a pile of fur and feathers under Hermione’s wing. Little Vik was fluttering around, inspecting the two baby Animagi with interest, giving soft approving chirps.

“And that their forms would be… such a close mixture of both,” Sirius said with a chuckle. The dog animagus was scratching Cerberus behind the ears as the Grecian dog looked on with both curiosity and contentment. “I’m not sure what such a discovery will do my attractiveness with the ladies if the thought their children had the potential to come out puppies.”

Remus snorted. “Since when are you looking to settle down, Pads?”

“Well, now that the war is over, you can’t blame a bloke for remembering he spend some thirteen plus years without the company of a nice and compassionate witch,” Sirius said with a wink.

Remus shook his head. “Just don’t come to me like you used to and detail your adventures, Pads. Some of us don’t want to know.”

Sirius scoffed, looking offended, but he grinned at Remus.

Trefoil approached slowly, weaving her way through the gathered crowd. She reached out and touched Hermione’s head gently, and the gryphon chirped warmly to her, lifting her wing so the young filly could look.

Trefoil’s eyes were wide with admiration, and she looked to Hermione and Viktor for permission. Neither the gryphon or simurgh protested as she lifted up the female simurglet up and cradled her.

Lily squirmed slightly and then focused on Trefoil, small dark eyes meeting the filly’s in fascination. She placed her tiny front paws on Trefoil’s chest and then her tongue shot out and lapped under Trefoil’s chin, giving her the equivalent of puppy kisses.

If Trefoil hadn’t been won over before then, her heart melted for the baby simurglet now, and she rocked the young animagus in her arms, giggling as Lily lag on her back, tiny wings pumping, tail swishing back and forth, and miniature talons and paws wriggling against Trefoil’s hands as the centaur filly rubbed the little one’s tummy.

“There she goes,” Bane said with a chuckle, nudging Chara with his arm. “You’ll never be able to keep her away from her.”

The female centaur shook her head in resigned acceptance of fate.

Lily, already tuckered out, yawned in a toothless gape, and then snuggled into Trefoil’s arms, perfectly content to fall asleep in her extended family’s arms.

Magorian approached, carrying a bowl of something in his hand. He dropped his front legs down and then his rear, smiling at Viktor and Hermione. He extended his hands for Lily, and Trefoil placed the sleepy simurglet into his hands.

Magorian stared down at her with affection, dipping his hand into the bowl and staining his fingers. He drew the pigment across the simurglet’s forehead in a horseshoe shape and drew a line down her back. He held the simurglet up into the dappled sunlight. “We welcome you until the time the stars give you your herd name, Lily Titania Krum, into the Dark Forest Herd. My the planets witness your birth, the ground never falter beneath your feet, and stars never fail to guide you when find yourself troubled.” He placed the sleeping simurglet back into Terfoil’s arms, smiling as both Hermione and Viktor looked on with approval.

Magorian plucked Lily’s twin up from where he was already snoring away beside his mother’s belly. He drew him to his chest, dipped his hand into the pigment, and drew it across the young animagus’ forehead and back. He held Severus the Younger up in the dappled sunlight. “We welcome you until the time the stars give you your herd name, Severus Tihomir Krum, into the Dark Forest Herd. May the planets witness your birth, the ground never falter beneath your feet, and the stars never fail to guide you when you find yourself troubled.” He placed the snoring simurglet down beside his mother’s furred belly, nodding his approval to Hermione and Viktor before standing up on all four legs once more.

Trefoil reluctantly placed the baby simurglet in her arms back down next to Hermione’s belly, but Hermione nuzzled into Trefoil’s arm. Trefoil smiled at her. All was right with the world.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Tell me, child,” Desmondon’s velvet voice broke over the evening sounds in a subtle rumble. “When I saved your life so many years ago, did you imagine yourself here, at this place, surrounded in herd and Pack, people that love you, and your grandchildren staring up at you as though they are their sun and moon?”

Severus turned toward the master vampire, moonlight reflecting off his equally pale face. “No,” he answered, staring off over Black Lake. “For so long I hated you for it. Hated that you didn’t let me die like I felt I deserved.”

Desmondon tilted his head up to stare at the full moon, then stared silently as Moony snuffled the young simurglets as they pounced upon him, crawling over his body, nipping at his ears, and tugging on his tail. It was such an endearing sight, even to one such as Desmondon, to see a werewolf tending his packmate’s progeny with all the care and love of a devoted parent. Remus had found something werewolves could only dream of, complete peace with his wolf and Home within his Pack, the likes of which the infamous Fenrir Greyback could only create a warped version based on strong arming fear and bullying.

“Do you still believe you deserve a premature death, child?” Desmondon asked.

Severus turned to his master and shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Desmondon flashed his fangs in a smile, an odd thing to look at on a face so obviously bestial. “I am glad you no longer seek an end, child. Death comes soon enough without you seeking a hastened end.”

Severus looked up to the passing stars, staring at the glowing orb of the full moon and closed his eyes as if he were basking in the sun. “Did you know? Back then?”

Desmondon chuckled. “I am many things, young Severus,” Desmondon said. “I am not, however, a soothsayer. I knew, however, that you deserved more than what you had been given.”

“I did such horrible things,” Severus said, not specifically sad.

“And many more things that were not,” Desmondon said. “Can you honestly say, as your daughter’s eyes light up with the love she holds only for you that she is wrong to do so? Do you think she would name her children both after you and the one person you held in your heart long before she was born if she did not know you better than you know yourself and love you anyway?”

Severus turned to meet the gaze of the master vampire. “I thought I knew what love was before her,” he confessed. “I was wrong.”

Desmondon sniffed, looking out over the lake in stillness. “There are different kinds of love, child. What you had was a mere scrap morsel to a starving child who grew to be a starving man,” he said softly. “Now, you have the banquet. The love of your daughter is but the table that the others sit upon. Even your once enemies now look upon in friendship and as brothers, and you have the interest of a lady witch who adores your wit and even tolerates your snark. Others you thought so much more gifted than you have fallen to disrepair, and you now have what countless others can only dream of.”

Severus stared into the dark water of Black Lake.

“I think you’re allowed a little smugness in that, child,” Desmondon chuckled. “A little,” he added. “Wouldn’t want it to go to your head.”

Severus scoffed, quirking his lips at his old master.

There was a flurry of chirps and soft barks as the twins tumbled over Moony and then Cerberus. The Grecian dog drooled on the simurglets and pinned one down to groom them, eliciting a chain of protesting chirps from Severus the Younger.

Hermione, roused from the chirps of her son, pinned her s on down and preened him mercilessly removing the leaf litter from his peacock tail. She then took him up by the scruff of the neck, and carried him towards Severus and Desmondon, her tail looped across her back with her amusement.

Her simurglet wriggled as he dangled from her mouth as she approached, rubbing up against Severus with the side of her face and body.

She placed the simurglet by Desmondon’s feet, and then pinned his tail down with her front talons to keep him from escaping.

Desmondon chuckled, his voice was thick with his amusement. He placed his hand on Hermione’s head, and she closed her eyes as he stroked her head crest with gentle strokes. “Congratulations, my child,” the vampire said softly. “I’m sure you and your mate are very proud.”

Severus the Younger chirped forlornly from below, tail pinned from being able to sniff Desmondon properly.

“If I may?” the vampire asked.

Hermione released the hold she had on Severus’ tail and nudged the simurglet towards Desmondon.

Desmondon picked up Severus with his hands and lay him in his arm, his talon-like hands rubbing the baby simurglet on the stomach. The young animagus purred softly at his attention, staring into Desmondon’s bestial face with no fear at all.

Desmondon placed his finger to his fang and pricked it, drawing blood. Gently his drew a mark on his forehead to go along with the mark Magorian had drawn in pigment. “May you live a long and fulfilling life, young Severus.”

Severus stared up at him and chirped, rubbing his beak against Desmondon’s long talons. He grasped one of the vampire’s long fingers in his beak and tugged on it fearlessly until the vampire was “forced” into rubbing his belly again. “Such brass for a babe hardly out of the womb,” Desmondon chuckled. “I would expect no less, knowing the family.

Hermione chirped an eagle laugh, and seeing her female child making to escape off into the foliage, dragged her back, and placed her at Desmondon’s feet.

The ancient vampire handed Severus to his namesake before leaning down to scoop up Lily.

The simurglet cooed at Desmondon, her tiny tongue worked to lick the master vampire under the chin with gusto.

Desmondon lay his hand on her head and stroked her gently, then, pressing his finger to his fang once more, drew blood and traced his mark upon her head as well. “May you live a long and fulfilling life, young Lily,” he said softly before depositing her down near Hermione, who pinned her wriggling daughter simurglet down and preened the leaves and dirt off Lily’s tiny wings—not even a day old and already covering themselves in mischief. Human babies at least waited a few months before becoming active and filled with wanderlust, but apparently baby simurglets were not so restricted.

Thankfully, they did at least, tire quickly, as both Lily and her brother were snoring softly. Wrapping her beak around Lily, she carried the simurglet back towards where Moony and Cerberus were lying together and deposited her daughter next to Moony. She padded back to Severus and gently wrapped her beak around her son, and padded back over to the pile, depositing her son to lay next to her daughter.

Moony waged his tail, welcoming her back, and Hermione lay beside him and groomed his ears with her beak.

“I hope you’ve caught up on your sleep, child,” Desmondon said to Severus with a chuckle.

“Hrm?” Severus answered.

Desmondon rubbed his chin with his talons. “Those two are going to keep you all on your toes, talons, paws, and otherwise.”

“Of course,” Severus said with a sigh. “Why would I have perfectly well behaved grandchildren?”

Desmondon grinned bestially. “Consider it payback, my child, for what you put me through as a teenager.”

The silence of the night was broken by the sound of Severus’ palm hitting himself on the forehead. “I suppose I deserved that,” he said with resignation.

Desmondon smiled with a twinkle in his black eyes. “Just wait until they start flying.”

Severus peaked through his fingers at the master vampire. “Merlin.”

“Exactly.”

Severus rubbed the area between his eyes with his fingers.

“Why didn’t you let me die again?” Severus asked.

Desmondon gave Severus an evil smile. “I was bored.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw Helena Bonham Carter playing the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella, and I swear to Merlin, it was the most awesome thing ever. That alone, even without the version of the Bippity Bobbity song and the end credits (which you definitely stay for!) made my evening. I honestly couldn’t have cared less about the rest of the movie (thought it wasn’t bad, I swear!)
> 
> I actually have a lot of love for Helena Carter. She is a superb actress and it is because of her that my “hate” for Bellatrix is so well rooted, but to see her playing such a kind role with the flair she had for all of her roles, I can truly appreciate that she is a wonderful person. Very talented. It’s a lot like seeing Maggie Smith playing in Downton Abbey— seeing an old friend of sorts in an entirely new dimension. Mind you, Helena has been in such a variety of roles, that I really shouldn’t just immediately think of her as Bellatrix, but she played the role so well that I can’t think of anyone ELSE in the role, really, which is a testament of sorts to her believability.
> 
> And can I say that I really adore Severus’ relationship with Master Desmondon? They are pretty much the father/son relationship that Severus was denied by his actual birth father. Desmondon, despite who he really is, cares for Severus and Hermione, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tease Severus mercilessly with the idea that his grandchildren are literally going to be flying into his hair eventually.
> 
> Anyway… hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	98. Adventures in Simurglet Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva gets a little justice.

**Chapter 98: Adventures in Simurglet Sitting**

Minerva found herself a grandparent, which was quite the accomplishment considering she didn’t quite remember ever having children, unless one considered the hundreds of children she saw every day in her classes, but thankfully, she was pretty certain they weren’t all hers. Fairly certain. There was that one time involving firewhiskey she never talked about…

But pregnancy… she would have remembered that, even if she couldn’t remember much about that night.

Two tuckered out simurglets lay curled up in the middle of her bed, snoring away peacefully, having worn themselves out chasing each other around the Headmistress’ Office. Hermione and Severus were still teaching, but she didn’t mind watching them at all. They were, active as they were, prone to listening to her, and she occupied them easily enough. And if she wanted them to sleep, all she had to do was turn into a cat and make like she was going to sleep too, and they were eager to follow suit.

The thought of herself and firewhiskey was enough to sober her thoughts. Healer Ashbrook had informed her of Ginny Weasley’s old memories, and one of them was of her manipulating Romilda Vane into being desperate enough to gain Harry Potter’s attention to spike all of the butterbeer in Hogsmeade. It had been Romilda that had ultimately done it, but Minerva was slightly relieved to know that Ginny wouldn’t remember that part of her life. There were a lot of memories that the Healer had saved specifically involving the Dark Lord’s meddling, and Minerva had filed it away to await Alastor to come pick them up. Ginny’s fate had to go in front of the Wizengamot, but thankfully, due to the memories proving how much Voldemort had sunk his claws into the girl, the Wizengamot did not see it fitting to punish her for deeds that were neither her fault or even remembered.

The Romilda Vane girl had ended up married to Zabini, and part of Minerva wondered if that had taken just one more potential pawn of Voldemort’s out of the running before it actually happened. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel for the girl in her own way, but Vane had actually had a compulsive ring of matrimony and had decided to use it. That, regardless of whatever Ginny had been whispering to her, was her own choice.

To add to the every growing lists of things she didn’t want to know but ended up knowing anyway, Mundungus Fletcher had confessed that it had been Albus Dumbledore that had ordered him to raid Sirius Black’s house and steal the locket. Dumbledore hadn’t told him it was a Horcrux, but he had told Mundungus that it was “essential” that he bring it to him. Mundungus has just decided to “take a little more” while he was there.

Hurt by this betrayal of Albus Dumbledore blatantly going behind both her and the Order’s backs, she had come to believe that Albus was in a better place, or rather, better form just the way he was. Even Alastor said that it was probably best that Dumbledore enjoy that holiday he was on, because if he did come back there would be a lot of answering to do, and none of it would end pleasantly. Even if the locket hadn’t tried to possess Harry, the fact he had recruited Mundungus to break the law for his own ends was enough to damn the elder wizard. Had he simply told the Order what he was up to, they could have joined forces with the Aurors and taken care of it, but instead, the Order had taken care of it anyway, the hard way.

The portraits had told her many things about the last Headmaster as well, and she wondered why they were so apt to speak of Albus as poorly as they did, but as she kept finding more and more scraps left behind in the Headmaster’s old office, she was starting to see that he was either suffering from some sort of mental decline or was truly far more manipulative than any of them had realised.

Perhaps the truth was somewhere in between.

The portraits, however, seemed perfectly loyal to her, however, and for that she was grateful. Even the portrait of Phineas Black seemed to enjoy watching the baby simurglets bouncing around the office, chasing each other.

Severus and Hermione came to tea often, and Hermione found it amusing that the young animagi were so tired that they didn’t even flick an ear to notice they had come in. It may have taken a village to raise a child, but it definitely took an entire herd and pack combined to contain the youngster’s insatiable curiosity.

Lily and Severus the Younger seemed to show no inherent desire to stay in their human forms much. They seemed to know instinctively when non-pack were around and shift into their human forms, but if it was only pack and herd around, they were almost always simurglets. Minerva couldn’t blame them. Simurglets were so much more better prepared to handle life’s curve balls than a strictly human child.

Their personalities had started to show. Lily was the outgoing one who wanted to push, wiggle, or cajole her way into whatever was happening at the time. Severus seemed far more apt to watch things carefully before doing something, but given a chance, he too was a bit of pest. He seemed better at the entire ambush predator strategy. Lily was prone to wait for a time, get impatient, and then charge out after what she wanted, then sulk when that one thing she wanted got away. The rabbit population of Hogwarts was probably grateful for her lack of patience.

Cerberus, as it turned out, was an excellent simurglet sitter, and he would take them into his mouths and carry them around from place to place, guard them from danger, and teach them his own version of hunting. Minerva was certain that the simurglets would be experts in hunting before they even managed to say their first words. Magorian had speculated if they would be much like centaur foals, understanding spoken language long before they attempted to speak it themselves, having felt more comfortable with the language of the body and scents before that of the voice.

Hermione and Viktor was never lacking volunteers to watch over their mischievous spawn, and Minerva could tell they were as proud as they could be, even if they were a bit amazed that two such amazing and unlikely creatures had come from their combined genetics.

Bets were being held on what Remus and Tonks, whom everyone still called her Tonks despite her marriage, would end up with, whether it be endowed with the mother’s metamorphmagus abilities, the father’s animagus abilities, or some random combination that would rival the simurghlets’ arrival into the world.

Tonks seemed convinced that it was a normal pregnancy, but Severus had raised a questioning brow just before asking her, “what exactly is normal for any one of us, hrm?”

The pack was ribbing the young witch what she had chosen as a name for her first born, and she was adamant that her child would be a boy, and he would be named Edward Remus Lupin after her father and Remus. Ironically, it had been Trefoil who had brought up the subject no one else was voicing outloud, “But what if you a filly? Or twins?”

As adamant as Tonks was that her child would be male, Remus was secretly pondering good names for a female child with the rest of the Pack and the Herd. Remus was pretty certain he would settle for Hope for good female name. It was the name of his mother, and despite how much heartache his parents had inadvertently put him through in containing him for his painful transformations, he had loved his mother fiercely. As for a middle name, he knew that Nymphadora was out of the question, Andromeda was the name of the woman who inflicted Nymphadora with her hated name, so that was out, and that left him pondering the name of one particular strong-willed witch whose name could grace his potential female child: Hermione.

Regardless of what came, short of having triplets, which even Remus was not considering, they would have names for either a female or a male child. Remus just hoped if he did have twins they weren’t like Fred and George, because he had no idea what he’d name a second male or second female twin.

The simurglets were stirring again, and Minerva got a mad twinkle in her eyes, worthy of Albus himself.

“How would like to go play out on the green, my darlings?” Minerva purred.

Lily and Severus perked immediately. Lily yipped, and Severus chirped with excitement.

Minerva transformed into her tabby cat form and led them out of her office and down the corridors to the outside, the two simurglets dutifully following her, chasing after her tail, and taking turns pouncing on her as they went.

Thanks to the complex work of Filius, each simurglet sported a stylish collar that made them look to outsiders of the pack and herd as kittens. Filius had fallen head over heels in love with the two simurglets and was honoured to be taken into the Pack’s confidence. The Charms professor often passed Minerva in the hallways, her two “kittens” following behind her, giving her a large grin of a shared secret that was almost too bizarre to be believed.

By the time they reached the paddock, Minerva sensed Lily and Severus’ excitement. They bristled as they saw the kids playing in the paddock with the adult goats. Minerva sat down in the sun, tail flicking, giving them silent permission to go play.

The two simurglets clamboured over the fence and played with the kids and then, as she predicted they would, they singled out the old billy goat in the herd and proceeded to stalk him, pounce on him, and then stand on his back to bat at his horns and ears. Like sheep dogs, they drove the old billy around the paddock, nipping at his rump to get him to move, and by the time the old goat plopped down in exhaustion, the two hunting simurglets flopped on top of him, gnawing on his horns and tugging on his beard.

Minerva grinned to herself, sprawling lazily in the sun. Justice.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	99. You're BOTH Wrong!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks has her baby.  
> You can't always be right.

** Chapter 99: You’re Both Wrong! **

Tonks, unlike Hermione, did not want to be laying on her back in the woods to have her child, no matter how comfortable Hermione said the moss had been. If she was going to loose a child upon the world, it was going to come out in the hospital where generations of her ancestors had had them. She convinced herself that it was because she wasn’t a gryphon or that she didn’t have an animagus form, or some other reason that made sense at the time, but when it came down to it she was scared and she wanted her mother to be able to be there. She knew that her mother wouldn’t be caught walking in a park let alone the Dark Forest to be surrounded in centaurs and animagi. She loved her mother enough that she wanted her to be there for the birth of her grandson.

It would be her mother’s grandson, Tonks was convinced. She would settle for nothing less.

The change in scenery, however, did not seem to do Remus any better mentally, and he was torn between pacing and being at her side. His Pack, however, were being banned outside the delivery room, the staff of the maternity ward did not want extra idle hands clogging the arteries of the hospital.

Hermione and Viktor were providing distraction to the gathered outside by bringing the simurglets, who thankfully seemed to realise they needed to put their game faces on, and appeared nothing more than two fussing and normal human babies to passersbys. Tonks silently said a prayer of thanks for that, because Hermione and Viktor tended to take the form that best suited the dealing with baby simurglets and that was one very hard to conceal male simurgh and an equally hard to conceal mother gryphon. Both parents were exceedingly protective of their simurglets, regardless of form, and the only ones that they relaxed around was when it was Pack or herd that were with them.

Tonks could tell that while Remus the man wanted nothing more than to be with his wife, Moony wanted to be with the majority of his pack as well as his mate, so there was bit of an internal discussion going on in poor Remus’ head. To his credit, he was holding her hand, despite the death grip that was threatening to tear off his hand from his wrist.

They had offered her something to dull the pain, but Tonks swore it did nothing. The contractions felt like someone was reaching up into her womb and trying to turn it inside out. Hermione’s bestial screams suddenly made a lot more sense as Tonks let loose a scream of her own, wanting no thing more than to evict the interloper that was homesteading in her womb right now. She didn’t care if it was hers. She wanted it out!

The midwives were swarming around her. One was wiping her forehead, another was checking her dilation, and another was prepping to “catch.” Tonks was pretty sure that the baby was going to come out like a bludger and knock the poor nurse down from the sheer amount of contraction that was going on. Tonks had spent a good ten hours or more in the stages of “thinking it was time” and it seemed that, unlike Hermione, who seemed to know exactly when labour meant business and marched herself into the Dark Forest, Tonks had gone though a few false starts, okay maybe nots, and number of this-time-I-mean-its.

She was fairly certain that this time meant business. It sure felt like her insides we’re trying to migrate in a downward stampeded down her birth canal. Actually, she noted sombrely, she wouldn’t mind if the baby did stampede it’s lazy arse, head, and everything else out of her.

Tonks let out a scream and the desire to push that little bugger out of her became too much to resist. She slammed all of her force of will downward, and there was a surge of pressure before she felt something give inside her. There was a gush of warmth between her legs, the “catcher” nurse was on the move, a basin was found, the baby was washed and properly mummified, and Tonks let go of poor Remus’ hand to hold the bundle in her arms.

“It’s a boy!” the nurse said happily.

“I told you!” Tonks said with a sigh, wasting no time at all rubbing it into her husband’s face. “A boy! Hello, Edward Remus Lupin,” she cooed. Just as Tonks was trying to figure out why the nurses weren’t cleaning up to leave, Tonks felt another monstrous contraction and she flung baby Edward into Remus’ arms, grabbed the side rails, and let out a bellow.

Remus had the wherewithal to look confused. He cooed down at Edward, brows furrowing. “You really don’t look like an Edward,” he said softly. “More like a teddy bear.”

Edward fussed, his small hand made a fist and tried to pop his father on the chin.

“Fiesty,” Remus chuckled. “You’ll get on famously with Lily and Severus, Teddy” he snickered.

The baby looked up at him with the new name on top of what was still a his new name. He burbled nonsensically.

“What the bloody hell?” Tonks screamed, finding herself in the midst of another drive to push like her life counted on it.

Tonks exposed the youngest Lupin to a slew of vernacular that made Remus blush. He was driven to cover the baby’s ears and distract him from his mother’s chain of cursing. Torn between holding the baby, holding his wife’s hand while she cursed and struggled with her contractions, and just standing there stupidly, he managed to give out a strangled cry for his mother-in-law, knowing that if he didn’t call for Andromeda first, there would be hell to pay from either her or Tonks, whichever got to him first.

Tonk’s mother rushed in, and he thrust Teddy into her arms. “Edward Remus Lupin, meet your grandmother,” he gushed out all at once. “Andromeda, Teddy,” he said. He knelt by Tonks and grasped her hand, trying to whisper comfort over her grand swearing.

Andromeda cradled the young Teddy Lupin silently, wondering, perhaps, who she was going to blame for her daughter’s unbeknown affinity to foul language.

With a great cry of effort, there was a smaller cry. The nurse swept up not the afterbirth but a second child.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse announced.

The child screamed loudly, as if she was echoing her mother’s loudness. The nurses cleaned her off, clamped and cut the umbilical, and wrapped her in blanket, handing her to Tonks.

The girl child cried loudly, protesting the brightness in the room, protesting that she was wrapped up in a blanket, and protesting that she had the right to protest.

“Well hello there, Hope Hermione Lupin,” Remus practically purred to his new daughter.

Then, like a miracle, the new Hope Hermione Lupin stopped crying and stared wide eyed into her father’s face, her dark green eyes staring into his.

Andromeda cooed at Hope as well as Teddy, seeming quite happy with the results of her daughter’s pregnancy. Remus looked somewhat smug that he had managed to get to use the name he’d decided on for his possible female child. Tonks, on the other hand, was looking quite disgruntled that she still wasn’t through yet, and part of Remus wondered if they had both been wrong in not expecting triplets.

At last, perhaps, the nurses that were hovering around Tonks seemed to believe all was done. They cleaned Tonks up, wrapped her in a new gown, and had the space cleared out for a filtering of small group visiting.

Andromeda seemed to think Teddy was the best thing since mankind had discovered the wheel and Wizarding-kind had invented lumos. She fussed over him greatly, barely giving Tonks time to fuss over her own first-born. Thankfully, Tonks seemed to be pleasantly surprised by Hope, and channelled her welcome into her unexpected daughter.

It was around this time when Teddy’s smattering of hair on his head turned purple, and Andromeda let out a cry of excitement that Tonks would have to deal with a miniature version of herself. She seemed utterly happy about it, and Tonks wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Just as Tonks finished giving Hope Lupin her first meal, Hope seemed to be focusing on something really hard. Her eyes went gold, and with a soft pop, a fuzzy wolf pup was in her hands with a little pink Mohawk on the top fuzz of her head.

Tonk’s eyes went wide with surprise and horror as she realised her mother was not the first person she wanted outside of the pack to realise what her daughter had just done. She trust the pup into Remus’ arms with a gesture of her head for him to go blend into the pack outside before her mother noticed.

Remus clutched the excited wolf pup in his arms and hustled out into the waiting room, praying that he didn’t run into anyone that wasn’t Pack and that rest of the Pack were in a place where his newborn daughter’s new secret wouldn’t be revealed.

Remus was never more relieved when he saw the portable playpen that Minerva and Flitwick had constructed for the simurglets. He practically bowled over Sirius on his way there, dropping his “pup” into the playpen and letting the charmed magic protect her from non-Pack eyes.

Two baffled looking simurglets introduced themselves properly by sticking their noses to both ends of the new interloper, sniffing, then exchanging sides.. Hope wagged her miniature tail, tongue shooting out to peg Lily and Severus under the chin. The twins tumbled with her, having a slight advantage with coordination to the new inductee. Hope’s energy level tanked within a few minutes, and she flopped in the middle of the playpen fast asleep. Lily and Severus stared at their new and sleeping friend. Lily whined and Severus chirped sadly. They snuggled up next to Hope and entangled her with legs and wings until they were all asleep.

Severus the Elder peered into the playpen with a raised eyebrow. “So, Lupin,”he drawled. “Anything you care to share with the rest of the class?”

Hermione and Viktor were staring at him with straight backs and crossed arms. Sirius was looking like he just ate the canary that Remus was pretty sure Padfoot had stolen from Minerva.

“Good thing Flitwick made that pen to conceal our little freaks of nature, eh Remus?” Hermione clucked her tongue at him.

Remus looked sheepishly at her. “Erm… I uh. Meet Hope Hermione Lupin,” he finished in a rush.

Hermione’s eyebrows went straight into her hair.

“And I’d really like you and Viktor to be her godparents,” he said in a hurry.

Sirius walked over to the playpen and looked in. “You already asked Harry to the godfather, Remus.”

“For Teddy,” Remus said. “Er… nickname for Edward Remus Lupin.”

Sirius managed to do his best Severus Snape expression of disbelief.

Remus looked at his toes. “We had twins?”

Sirius belted out a laugh, smacking Remus on the shoulder. “Congratulations, you old wolf!”

A dishevelled looking man in an odd looking hat stumbled down the corridor. “Remus!” he exclaimed. “Where’s Nymphadora and my grandchild?” He was dressed completely Muggle, but haphazardly, as if he had just picked a little from column A, a little from column B, and socks from column R and Z. “Horrible time trying to get here. Had to use that odd rock Andromeda gave me this morning. Dropped it on the front lawn. Had to try talking to about fifty similar rocks.”

Multiple hands pointed into the maternity ward.

“Ahhh wonderful,” he said, wandering away without a further word.

Severus lifted a brow as he looked after the odd man’s departure. “That must be Edward?”

Remus let out his breath. “Yes.”

“Muggle?” Viktor asked.

“Very,” Sirius answered for him. “He’s what got Andromeda blasted off the family tree.”

“He’s actually quite a nice bloke,” Remus said with a half smile. “He’s just… a little different.”

“Xenophilius different?” Hermione asked.

“No, not that different,” Remus said, waving his hands. “He loves Andromeda like she’s his sun. You can see it in his eyes. It’s a good thing.”

The gathered pack nodded in approval.

Hope Lupin had woken up, yawned toothlessly, and whined softly, her tiny tail, ears, and nose working overtime. Lily woke, shook her head, and clamped her muzzle over Hope’s. Hope whined softly, tucking her tail between her pudgy legs. Lily released her immediately and stretched, yawned, and flopped on her side, batting half-heartedly at Hope’s muzzle.

The little wolf pup yipped, waking up Severus, and the simurglet pounced on Hope. His peacock tail swished back and forth and his eagle beak clamped on Hope’s muzzle briefly. The little wolf pup submitted instinctively, and little Severus didn’t press the issue, deciding instead to flop on top of her and preen her ears and neck with his beak.

Remus and Sirius stared down at the mini-pack forming before their eyes. “Well,” Sirius said with a grin, “at least we didn’t have to suffer through awkward introductions.”

“No,”Remus said with a sigh. “That comes later when Edward realises he has a granddaughter too.”

Hermione peered into the playpen where Lily was drooling on Hope happily. “Grandpup?”

The pack exchanged wolfish grins as Remus’ hand slammed into his forehead and slid down his face.

Viktor put his arms around Hermione and kissed her neck, causing Hermione to purr softly. “All hail the freaks of nature.”

Hermione looked into the playpen and smiled. “And thanks to Master Desmondon, who gave us a safe place to raise them.”

The gathered Pack nodded in agreement.

“So,” Sirius said, nudging his best mate. “When do we get to see the other child of Moony and Tonks?”

Remus shook his head. “I think Tonks needs some time to be with her parents and Teddy. Andromeda can take having a grand baby Metamorphmagus in stride and break it to Edward that they have another in the family, but I don’t think they are ready for Animagus granddaughter.”

Viktor looked over the rim of the playpen. “Look at bright side, Remus,” he said with a sniff.

“Hrm?” Remus replied.

“You do not have to worry about your pup flying,” Viktor replied with a deadpan expression.

Remus paled. “Thank Merlin.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry was having a pretty good day. His long day in Auror training was over, and he had an extra long weekend to look forward to. Now all he wanted to do was spread his wings a little and have a good fly. He may not make flying look as dignified as Viktor, Hermione, or Severus did with his raccoon shape and oddball antlers, but he was pretty sure all the practice he and Little Vik had gone though that he was much more capable of chasing after a snitch without a broom now. His wings were stronger, more capable of holding him aloft for longer periods, and he’d even gotten better at carrying things while trying to fly at the same time.

For now, however, Harry just wanted to fly for flyings sake. He wanted to feel the wind between his feathers and fur, and he wanted to smell the scent of Black Lake combined with those of the Dark Forest together. Both combined into what had become Home to him. Even Sirius said that the places they were building nestled outside of the Dark Forest were feeling more like home than Grimmauld Place ever had. He admitted that not having Walburga screaming at him at the new place was probably a good part of it.

As Harry zipped over the moors, he found himself watching more of the sunset than where he was going, enjoying the scenery and journey rather than paying attention to how he was getting there. It was that lack of attention, however, that sent him careening head and alters first into “something” also flying at full tilt into his direction.

WHAM!

Harry plummeted from the sky with a stunned chitter, falling to the ground with a very undignified tumble. Thankfully, perhaps, he had not been flying high, instead zipping close to the ground, but he didn’t feel very lucky as he crash landed into the dirt, brush, grass, and random foliage.

Harry tried to move, but he found himself head-locked with something. Did he get his antlers stuck in a bush again? Merlin, Aleksander would never let him live it down, if that was the case. Draco would definitely have a good hour laugh at his expense as well.

He struggled to sit up, but his head was cranked somewhat oddly to the side as whatever was holding him steadfast moved against him.

What the?

Harry gave a chittering noise.

Something answered him with a strange noise not so unlike the grinding of teeth.

He turned his eyes to look forward and saw a pair of brown eyes staring back a him from a rabbit’s head. There was no mistaking the long rabbit ears, twitching nose, and whiskers.

As Harry stared into the eyes of his compatriot in entanglement, he realised that somehow he’d managed to get stuck together with a rabbit—a rabbit who happened to be what? Jumping in the air the exact moment he flew by? That didn’t seem right.

No, it seemed he was quite thoroughly locked together with something on the rabbit’s head. What in Merlin’s name would be on a rabbit’s head to get tangled up with? It’s not like rabbits went around sporting antlers in the wings like he did, proud freak of nature that he was. His nose worked, trying to figure out if they were bleeding. He would feel somewhat guilty if he had impaled the poor thing in his antlers.

Resigned that he wasn’t going to wriggle his way out of this one in the shape he was, he decided to shift. He’d have to apologise to the poor rabbit’s animal sanity later.

He gathered himself to shift, and allowed his human form to reinstate itself. There was a pop as his antlers disappeared and he and his unfortunate fellow victim went tumbling in opposite directions.

Harry found himself staring at the sky after the shift as he lay sprawled flat on his back. He rubbed his head with a groan, sitting up.

Blink.

He stared into the eyes of a baffled looking witch with mousy brown hair in disarray, chocolate brown eyes, and an equally flabbergasted look on her face.

Harry rubbed his head, cleared his throat, coughed, and stared at his navel as if to contemplate the meaning of life within.

“Sorry!” they both chimed together. “My fault, really. Terribly…sorry.”

They stared at each other.

Harry, master of the Queen’s English, sort of gaped at her with his mouth working like a fish.

She, however, seemed to be having the same tongue tying experience. Her accent was heavily American and so distinctly not British or even one of the European dialects, that to Harry, at least, she might as well have been Fleur Delacour with the most exotic voice on Earth.

She seemed to think the same of him, because she mirrored his actions, down the silent working of her mouth as she made slightly incoherent sounds.

“So you’re an Animagus?” they blurted in unison, both ruffling their mop-like hair simultaneously.

They stared at each other.

“Jackalope,” she said. “Bit of a freak of nature.”

“Winged raccoon with antlers,” Harry said. “Likewise.”

Stricken with the absurdity of it all, the pair burst out into laughter, and to Harry, the sound of the witch’s laughter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“I’m Harry,” he blurted.

“I’m Harriet,” she said at the same time.

They blinked at each other.

Harry, deciding that if Fate was going to drop a bomb into his lap, the least he could do was pony up and take it by the… antlers. “Would you like to… get a drink?” he said nervously. “I, erm, know of a great little place in Hogsmeade.”

Harriet blinked and flushed, her face gaining a rosy colour. “I’d love to.”

Harry responded with a flush of his own and stood up, extending his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Harriet,” he managed to salvage his manners from the basement of his brain.

She took his hand, pulling herself up. “Pleased to meet you, Harry,” she said warmly.

Harry extended his arm for her, and she weaved her own around his.

Crack.

They were gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione lay on her side in the sun as her offspring chased each other through the garden around them. One eye was closed, and the other was half-open as she watched around her. Her ears, however, were in perfect order, tracking the sounds of her simurglets as they tumbled, chased, growled, squeaked, chirped.

Hope, her insidious god-pup, pounced on her from behind, thinking herself the most stealthy pup on Earth. Hermione sniffed, giving a lazy open beak yawn, her tail flipping against the ground in invitation.

Hope needed no encouragement, and pounced on it, trying to sink her mouth half full of puppy teeth into the thick skin of her tail, and only managed to get a face and mouth full of fluffy fur.

The pup sputtered, whining, and clambered over Hermione’s huge gryphon body, using her as her own private jungle gym. Hope had become almost surgically attached to her godmother, joining with her simurglets like she was born from Hermione herself.

In truth, the entire Pack and the herd spent a great amount of time raising their young together, but Hope’s brother Teddy was restricted to a very human development scale. Hope found her pent up puppy energy best channelled in interactions with Lily and Severus, who were all too happy to share their antics with the displaced wolf pup. For some reason, however, Hope clung to Hermione like she was the greatest fixture of her world, trading up for Tonks and Remus whenever she “had” to. She even fought for mealtimes with the simurglets and shared with the spoils. The half-dozing gryphon had been startled somewhat by that turn of events, but seeing as she did have two rows of feeding options for her wayward spawn, what was one more mouth? Remus has ribbed her, wondering is the rich gryphon milk was going to make his daughter sprout wings. Hermione told him it would serve him right if it did.

The pup and simurglets found themselves in the midst of a multitude of teachers. Little Vik was a dutiful nanny, Cerberus was a guardian and teacher, the herd taught them the ways of the centaur, and the Pack taught them both the ways of the Pack dynamic and the ways of humans simultaneously. The trio of friends were enthusiastic learners, showing no trouble balancing the slew of information they were processing. Magorian’s prediction that they would understand language long before they used it, preferring the use of the herd and pack’s body language to that of English or Bulgarian, was proven true. It wasn’t to say they weren’t perfectly able to understand English and Bulgarian, and no amount of pretending they didn’t ever fooled anyone.

The Sky Brothers loved on the simurglets and the Lupin children with equal spoiling, and there were no shortage of eyes, wings, tails, and talons to keep watch over any or all the above. Much to the simurglets’ disappointment, their wings couldn’t get them out of paying for their mischief when the ones watching them also had wings. Hope, her own brand of wolfish mischief, would try to pin things on her twin, but the puppy prints leading to and from various knocked over containers didn’t take an expert to deduce the truth from.

Lily, Hope, and Severus all preferred their Animagus forms to their human ones, but Hope was the one who showed more than average stubbornness in wishing to remain in her pup form even when her grandparents were coming to visit, much to the consternation of both Tonks and Remus, who were still trying to ease the grandparents into the idea of their granddaughter preferring to bounce around on all fours

Teddy, despite not having a full animal form, made up for it in baby charm. He’d change the colour of his hair and eyes depending on who was holding him, sometimes leaving a part of his hair a bright purple or pink as if to taunt Tonks for her own bubblegum hair tendencies. He was the light of his grandparents’ eyes, and seemed to serve as a good distractor to them until Hope’s tendency to stay a wolf pup wore off. Teddy was a fast learner, crawled with the speed of a dashing cockroach with a resilience to match. Running around the house squealing came a fast second. It wasn’t long before he had the dexterity and gumption to grab his twin in his arms and carry her around under his arm or in them, her puppy body squirming to escape his trap-like grip. It took a few episodes of this before Hope Lupin figured out that being a human child had its merits, at least, on occasion.

Lily and Severus charmed the robes off their Bulgarian grandparents in both forms, seeming to realise that the Krums were a different sort than the Grangers. To the Grangers, however, Lily and Severus were the epitome of happy human babies. They boggled sometimes how the two children could be put to bed in their crib and then come in to find them asleep on top of each other in the middle of pile of toys on the opposite side of the room. The Grangers called them the Houdini babies, and Hermione and Viktor snickered. If they only knew the truth.

Baby proofing a home was bad enough. Simurglet proofing your home was an exercise in tactical espionage. One part tenacity, three parts cunning, and six parts pure curiosity, if your house was proof against a simurglet, your house was proof against human babies hands down or paws up.

It was Fred and George, surprisingly, that succeeding in helping the Pack simurglet proof all the homes, chambers, and any place the young mischief-makers were loosed. They laughed about it heartily, saying they understood shenanigans better than anyone, it was only fitting they would put themselves to use trying to counter their own brand of it.

As if to accent their role in life and the Pack, Fred and George proved it by taking their Animagus forms at last, adding two mischievous red foxes to the Pack. While they didn’t have wings, they were more than adequately prepared to deal with Simurglets, a wolf pup, and a young Metamorphmagus, much to the growing quartet’s chagrin.

Within a few years, the pack had settled into a wondrous sense of normality. The Aerie’s business was more than successful. The Weasley twins had become the most successful joke shop in the Wizarding world. The pair began to surreptitiously pool in with the Aerie in purchasing even more of the land around the Dark Forest, turning the surrounding forests into a wilderness preserve rivalling any in the world. Both Muggle and Wizarding worlds marvelled at the grand expanses of Old World Forest, and while some limited human visits of the ecosystems were allowed under supervision, the vast land tracks became known to those in the know as the Black Lake Packlands, the Dark Forest Centaur Herdlands for those that lived within the forest, The Black Lake Magizoological Land Trust and Preserve for the Wizarding world, and the Scottish Black Forest Preserve to Muggles.

Regardless of the name, however, the Pack and Herd lands were notoriously a place whose reputation for intolerance of interlopers who tried to come in and log or trespass was well known. People would either disappear altogether or come out babbling incoherantly. Those that survived whatever it was they saw inside spoke of ghosts and demons, talking animals, and a host of other horrible things. Muggles believed the forest was haunted. Wizarding folk simple knew a host of rare magical creatures make their home there. It didn’t take long before both left the forest alone.

The relationship between Hogwarts students and faculty and the residents of the Dark Forest, however, did nothing but improve. Firenze taught centaur divination under the skies, Bane taught centaur customs to prevent misunderstandings between the herd and the school, and Chara taught traditional wildcrafting and plant harvesting. Despite the classes being optional, many students on their third year were on wait lists to get into the classes, and Minerva declared them a grand success, both academically and in relation to the centaurs. The less misunderstandings the better, she rationalised, and it kept the tension between the centaurs and the students down every time he brought them into the forest uninvited and unannounced. To the centaurs credit, she was was thankful, they didn’t shoot arrows and ask questions later, especially since the herd had a record number of healthy foals running around the woods.

Severus and Veronika were married together with Harry and Harriet in a small unassuming wedding in Hermione and Viktor’s garden. The Pack and the Herd were all in attendance, but everyone seemed to realised that the last thing Severus or Harry wanted was more publicity, even if Rita Skeeter was no longer in the equation.

The love between Severus and Viktor’s aunt had only grown steadily throughout the years, and there was no one in the pack or the herd that disapproved of the Bulgarian bear Animagus and her growing bond with the black owl. Veronika, to her credit, never questioned the bond of love between Severus and his adopted daughter. She admitted that if it hadn’t been for Hermione, she would never have had a chance with Severus, and that would have been a tragedy. Veronika knew she had truly been accepted the day that Hermione called her “mum.”

As for the love between Harry and his fated meeting with Harriet, the Pack couldn’t have chosen better for him. Both of them were trying to escape the fame of their childhoods, both were self-admitted freaks of nature, and the both of them were fated to be the Pack’s quaffles until it stopped being funny. No one doubted that it was never going to stop being funny. A winged and antlered raccoon with a winged and antlered jack rabbit seemed strangely fitting, but Severus did ask Harry what, exactly, was he going to call his kids: cubs or kittens? Fred suggested cubittens, and George said kibs. Hermione and Viktor pondered kibbens. Harry just turned red, while Harriet took an expression out of Luna’s handbook and gave a serene smile that said “both, of course!”

With the graduation of Ginny from Hogwarts, a few years behind schedule, Professors Snape and Krum watched the last of their “fated war generation” pass through the gates of Hogwarts to meet the world. While the Pack remained on friendly terms with the Weasleys, Ron had pulled up stakes and run off with Lavender, leaving barely a forwarding address until he needed babysitting help from Molly and Arthur. Harry saw him at work in the Auror’s office from time to time, but he confessed that the great friendship he once had with the red-headed youngest Weasley had faded over the years. Molly had seemed strangely disappointed that Harry and Ginny never regained their close friendship or even, as she confessed, something more, but she also seemed to realised the price for daughter being alive and sane was the loss of that particular dream.

Harry, awkwardly, had introduced his new wife, Harriet Potter, and while Molly was trying to pick her jaw off the ground, Arthur embraced him with a bone-crushing hug and offered his sincere congratulations.

George had started to bring Angelina Johnson home to Sunday dinners, and that seemed to bring Molly back into a happier mood and stop focusing on what could have been. Fred admitted that one day, he was going to find the right “foxy witch” for him, which the Pack chuckled over, and his parents seemed to think that he was waiting for someone attractive to come along. Fred let his parents think what they would.

It wasn’t until he came home with a Japanese witch named Tsukiko that they truly believed he had been waiting for someone attractive to come along. Fred’s introducing the kitsune Animagus to the Pack, however, had them laughing in the irony. She was indeed a natural beauty, but she was a fox, and she kept Fred on his toes in a manner that made the simurglets seem like amateurs.

From time to time, when the quartet was fast asleep, Desmondon would come to visit Hermione, Viktor, Severus, and his new wife. Veronika had found Desmondon utterly intimidating the first few times, which the ancient vampire seemed to find amusing.

It wasn’t until Severus the Younger and Lily crept out from their beds and pounced the master vampire that Veronika seemed to realise his bond to the Pack was far more than just in words. The two simurglets clambered into his lap and snuggled into him, allowing his bony talons to stroke their wings until they couldn’t keep their eyes open and ended up drooling over his lap.

Desmondon seemed to find the situation amusing, the corners of his bestial face twisted into a small smile and flash of fang. He cradled the pair with a soft look about his face, as if remembering a time long past.

If there was any doubt left in Veronika about Desmondon’s character or the trust the Pack had in him, the vampire offered to watch the simurglets for a night so Hermione and Viktor could get some much needed sleep, and the pair had gratefully agreed. The pair had excused themselves for the night, and maybe not five minutes later, the pairs soft snores were already coming from the Lair.

Desmondon, still as a sculpture, stared into Veronika’s eyes. “I meant it when I told them they needed sleep, child. Did you think, perhaps, they had other things on their mind?”

Veronika managed to scrape her dignity off the floor just before breaking out in a blush that turned her quite scarlet.

Desmondon’s lips curved upward into a knowing smile. “Don’t worry child. In about seven months, give or take a week or two, you’ll understand.” His eyes had a mad twinkle about them that didn’t match the stone facade upon his bestial face.

Veronika’s eyes widened in pure shock. “What?”

Severus, whose normally pale face lacked that certain flush of life, managed to turn a lovely shade of Gryffindor.

Desmondon stroked the soft wings of his adopted grand-simurglets. He hadn’t been bored in years. It was fabulous.

 


	100. Epilogue: All Aboard! | The Great Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic conclusion. Bring tissues.

A/N: Chapter 100, folks. Where did all the time go?!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Chapter 100: Epilogue: All Aboard | The Great Beyond

“Mum,” Lily tugged on Hermione’s sleeve. “Mummy!”

Hermione blinked and looked down at her bushy black-haired child with a grunt. “Hnn?”

“Why do we have to take a train to school?” she asked her mother. “Severus and I can just fly there!”

“Because, love,” Hermione admonished. “It is tradition.”

“Tradition like throwing salt over your shoulder?” Lily asked.

“That’s more superstition,” Hermione laughed.

Lily furrowed her brows. “So… like pouring hot water into the kettle and dumping it out before brewing tea?”

Hermione laughed, putting her hand on her child’s head. “Something like that, my imp.”

Lily grinned at her mother, bouncing up on her toes.

Severus came up beside his twin, rolling his trunk, his owl cage, and other school supplies strapped to the cart. The white owl hooted to the other owl on Lily’s stacked trunk. The twin owls hooted commentary to each other excitedly.

Hermione chuckled and pulled out two pouches from her robes. “Here is your spending money for the train. Don’t spend it all on chocolate frogs. Just in case you may need it for last minute supplies.”

“But mother,” Severus complained. “You and father and grandfather will be at the school if we need anything.”

“True,” Hermione laughed. “But do you really want to start off school with everyone knowing that?”

Severus and Lily exchanged very Slytherin looks and shook their heads. “Reveal nothing. Let them guess.”

Hermione’s sly grin answered them. “Quite Slytherin and Durmstrang of you, my children,” she said. Their conversation until that point had been entirely in fluent Bulgarian, making a few of the passerbys that did not know them on sight wonder why non English speakers were going to Hogwarts. Hermione grinned. Let them wonder.

A squeal of happiness shattered the air and two other children came running up to them. Hope Lupin jumped into Hermione’s arms, glomping her mercilessly, and Teddy Lupin hugged her waist, his hair changing into Hermione’s silver and brown.

“I can’t believe it’s finally here!” Teddy exclaimed.

“It’s going to be wonderful to finally get to be in school for real,” Hope said, bouncing up and down before tackle hugging Lily and Severus. Teddy tried for a handshake, but Lily wouldn’t have anything of it and hugged him mercilessly.

Tonks hurried up from behind them, tripping over some witch with a cane, and bumping into a wizard with an owl cage. “Oof! Sorry! Sorry!” she muttered coming up beside them. “Just as hazardous as I remember,” she said, her hair turning a bright shade of Hogwart’s Express red.

“Where’s that mate of yours, Tonks?” Hermione chuckled the question.

“With your father and your mate preparing to receive these holy terrors,” Tonks laughed. Her children huffed at her. Teddy make two wolf ears poke out of his hair and flick towards her as his hair turned bright red to match his mother’s.

“Psh!” Tonks said, ruffling her son’s head and hugging her daughter.

“Are the Longbottoms going to be on the train, mother?” Lily asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Neville and Luna didn’t have Lorcan and Pandora until a few years after you, I fear, despite the fact you grew up together. You’ll have to see them in about two years, officially.”

Severus snorted. “We saw them every day growing up, Lily, I’m not sure what you’re missing them for.”

Lily pouted, sticking out her lip, and Hermione and Tonks exchanged laughing glances. Lily was never the best at keeping dates straight, and that including keeping the ages straight of her friends, packmates, and her own parents. She was horribly equal opportunity forgetful like that. Neville had given her a remember-all for her Hogwart’s-bound gift. The irony wasn’t lost on Hermione in the slightest.

Severus sniffed, looking much like his grandfather. “They’ll be coming in with James and Sirius Potter,” he said, making up for his sister’s inability to remember ages. “And Scorpius Malfoy,” he added with a tilt of his head.

The quartet had come a few years ahead of what had been dubbed “the baby train” that occurred when Harry and Harriet, Draco and Astoria, and Luna and Neville had all “decided” to have their first children in the same year. Oddly, Ron and Lavender’s first born girl, Rose, was one year behind the quartet, putting her in a year that was neither with the Krum or Lupin children nor that of Potter, Longbottom, or Malfoy.

Sirius had embraced the life of the perpetual bachelor, but even while he had still not wed anyone he found to be “serious dating material,” he had plenty of love for the Pack and Herd’s younglings, and never failed to be there for them. He said that it was only fitting, considering how horribly he had failed at that for Harry.

Tonks smiled, ruffling Severus on the head. “You know, Hermione,” she said. “With your father as Headmaster, Remus teaching History of Magic, Viktor teaching Charms, Neville teaching Herbology, Luna teaching Care of Magical Creatures, you teaching Potions, Harriet teaching Transfiguration, Firenze teaching Divination, and Bane and Chara teaching wild-crafting and centaur relations, Hogwarts is basically a Pack family affair.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Someone had to do it!”

Tonks laughed, her hair going striped like a zebra. “McGonagall said she was leaving Hogwarts in capable paws,” Tonks said with a grin.

Hermione’s grin was perfectly sly.

“Okay,” Tonks said sternly. “You lot, what’s the rule?”

The quartet straighted up. “No exposing the Pack or the Herd to danger. Don’t go into the Dark Forest without telling the Pack or Herd first,” they chimed together. “No shifting around non Pack and Herd, unless it’s a matter of life and death.”

“Good,” Tonks said with a smile. “Now, give me a hug.”

The quartet ran forward and hugged Tonks at the same time. Tonks rose up with a grin on her face.

Hermione turned her nose up, looking in another direction.

The children giggled together and glomped her as well. “Don’t be like that mum,” they all chimed together.

Hermione laughed hugged them back. “I will see you at school.”

“Do we have to call you Professor?” they whined in unison.

“Indeed you will, and you will have to call your father and grandfather that as well, as well as Neville and Luna.”

The four children pouted.

Hermione laughed. “Off you go, then.” She shooed them. “I love you,” she said in Bulgarian, the threat of tears in her eyes.

“We love you!” the quartet chimed together.

They hugged her legs and waist tightly, and Hermione pet their heads in a shadow of what Severus had done so many times to her and Draco.

The children hurried onto the Hogwarts express.

Tonks took Hermione into a hug as the pair sniffled together in the emotional upheaval of having their combined children see themselves off to school for the first time.

“You’ll get to see them tonight at the feast,” Tonks said with a sniff. “I have to wait until the next holiday.”

Hermione laughed, her voice like a bell. “You needn’t worry. They won’t be anything less than how you were in school.”

Tonk’s hair turned lime green. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Hermione shot Tonks a look. “Nymphadora Lupin,” she said in her professor voice. “What exactly were you like in school?”

Tonk’s hair turned cotton candy blue. “Nothing fatal!” she squeaked, not even bothering to yell at Hermione for using her full name.

Hermione sniffed at Tonks as her controls slammed down over her expression, and she looked at Tonks with the perfectly stoic expression of her father. “Five points from Hufflepuff, Ms. Lupin, for your cheek.”

Tonks burst into laughter, pulling Hermione tight to her. “I love you so much,” she gushed.

Hermione’s face was perfectly dispassionate, but her pale white hand came up to stroke Tonk’s cotton candy blue hair as the Pack Song rose between them and sang strong and true.

_-o-o-o-_

_I am the gryphon mother,_

_Whose children have just left the nest._

_My love for them grows by the minute,_

_And bubbles forth from my chest._

_-o-o-o-_

_I am the shifter of many faces,_

_Whose mate sings to the sway of the moon._

_My children grew strong both in light and darkness,_

_And with the Pack we shall always commune._

_-o-o-o-_

_Mother, my name is Severus,_

_My wings will be wide and strong,_

_I shall remember the lessons you’ve taught me,_

_And always remember where I belong._

_-o-o-o-_

_Mother, my name is Lily,_

_My teeth will be bared in your name._

_May no one challenge our honour_

_And bring to our family shame._

_-o-o-o-_

_Auntie, my mum, and my kindred, I am Hope,_

_My howls announce the strength of my love,_

_For under your wings you have sheltered me,_

_And protected me from above._

_-o-o-o-_

_Auntie, oh Auntie, and my mother, I am Teddy,_

_My song is the change of the storm,_

_For the Pack is the beat of our heartsong,_

_And with it, we shall always be warm._

_-o-o-o-_

_Oh children, my children of the Pack,_

_May you grow strong in each others’ grace._

_May the ground underneath never fail you,_

_And may you never fall behind and lose pace._

_-o-o-o-_

_Oh children, my children, of the Pack,_

_May that which we have given you make you strong,_

_May you always be true to your honour,_

_And your friendships made be lifelong._

_-o-o-o-_

_Mother, oh mother, and Auntie,_

_We promise to you forever this day,_

_We shall never forget what you have given us,_

_And our love for you we shall proudly display._

-o-o-o-

Hermione and Tonks watched the Hogwarts Express pull out from the station and leave on its way to Scotland. Tears trickled down their faces as they looked on proudly, waving in their pride to their children on their way to to Hogwarts.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The very distant future…

Hermione stood on the ramparts of Hogwarts as she watched the sun set. Her mind would travel far in such moments. It would fly in the skies and run across the ground at top speed. Always beside her would be her mate, even when his body had long since ceased to have the immeasurable strength it once did. Always in her mind was her father, even when his body had grown still under the still of night. They never left her… her two greatest loves. She felt them always, wrapped around her heart like the long cloak that had become synonymous with Professors Snape and Krum.

Minerva and Severus provided her some comfort with their portraits, their enchanted voices bringing her the sort of bittersweet relief in the fact she had outlived them. They had both lived long, happy lives. They had left large shoes to follow, but Hermione had risen to the task, refusing to disgrace the man who had first been her professor, then her Master, and father. She embraced the memory of Minerva McGonagall and moved mountains in her name as much as her father’s.

Her birth parents, the Grangers, remained close to their grandchildren, even though they never quite figured out how to connect with their daughter. Hermione never blamed them. They had their monthly and holiday family dinners. Her children loved them greatly, and they seemed to love them in return far more easily than ever they had with her. She was happy with that. When her parents has passed, they passed knowing that their daughter loved them despite it all and that their grandchildren adored them.

She leapt into the air off the ramparts of Hogwarts, letting the thermals carry her aloft, spreading her great wings to greet the skies as she always had. She closed her eyes. She could feel her father’s wings touching hers on one side and Viktor’s on the other other. She banked hard into the thermals, allowing them to carry her aloft high into the air above the clouds. She let out a loud eagle cry that echoed the release she always felt when flying, savouring the irony that Hermione Granger, bane of all brooms in flight, would find herself a gryphon who enjoyed flying in the air as a duck took to water.

Aleksander had married a fiery Bulgarian witch who had shown the same passion for cooking as he. They had been married off the coast where the sun set like the sky was on fire. Their children set the world on fire, and the Pack expected nothing less.

Lazar found himself bound to a Veela from Southern France. They had met on a whirlwind holiday Lazar was taking while making connections in France for opening a French extension of the Aerie. In the course of less than a year, the wizard found himself both married as well as the father of triplets. Lazar proclaimed he was going insane, the Pack helped him get a handle on his brood one day at a time.

Valko, proud bird of earth, stood steadfast that he needed no female to complete him. He lived a good twenty years after his graduation from Durmstrang as a proudly single earthen bird until he crash landed, Harry Potter style, into a ring-tailed coati Animagus while caught in a storm, succumbed to the perils of love, and found himself married after a two year courtship. The Pack seemed to think it was fated. Harry congratulated Valko on “pulling a Harry and Harriet.”

Petya, the proud and the wizard with the silver spoon for a tongue, found himself quite enamoured with one Pansy Parkinson, who had made good on her change from Pure-Blood supremacist to Muggle-born advocate in the Wizarding Muggle Affairs Office. Draco had smiled during the wedding saying that she was still surprising him, even years out of Hogwarts. While she showed no desire to be an Animagus, stating that she did not want to find out she was an orca or a tree frog and have to live it down. She remained, however, a devoted friend to the pack.

A certain long-lived bearded goat became known as the Hogwart’s mascot. He was dressed up for all sorts of occasions such as holidays and Quidditch games, and depending on who won the House Cup that year, he was dressed in matching House colours for the next summer after. It was probably good that Albus Dumbledore was not aware of his predicament as the Slytherin House won the cup for a number of years in a row.

But, all those years that Hermione flew with her mate, her father, her brother’s coils wrapped around her neck, and her Sky Brothers had faded into distant memory. Hermione had survived them all. Her and their children and grandchildren now took over what she and her original Pack had started. The Aerie and Joke Shop businesses were still Pack run, and their carved out and protected life in the Dark Forest remained peaceful. They had succeeded in protecting their legacy, their alliance to the Herd, and the providing a safe haven for Animagi and reformed werewolves.

They had won the war. They had done the impossible. They had survived, thrived, grown, and become mighty. The packs children, grandchildren, and all those that came after them would prevail.

Hermione felt the aches in her wings from her flight. Her great wings were slowly getting weary. Her heart was no longer the strong and driving force of will it used to be. She allowed the silvery armour to cover her, relishing in the feel of the once Christmas gift Severus has gifted her. It had saved her life so many times. It had saved others’ lives many more. She let the armour retract as her wings flapped tiredly and she circled the growing settlement of Animagi homes that had started so humbly.

The new settlements were built into the forest and into the trees, blending into the ground and in the forest cover, merging the ways of Wizard and centaur in a perfect blend of cultures. All that lived in the settlement devoted half their time in taking care of the surrounding forests, working to insure the lands remained protected, and all the respect due to the centaur herd remained in tact.

Hermione landed in her garden, smelling the scent of the night blooming flowers, the ripening produce, and damp loamy soil. There was a time that seemed no so long ago, when Moony would be there in the garden waiting for her, laying under the fruit tree orchard. Padfoot would bound up to her and slurp her like a farmer’s hound to welcome her home, and her mate would be leaning against the door of the house, that special smile he reserved only for her upon his face. His scent of the salty sea no longer haunted the garden paths for her anymore, but sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could smell it still.

How she longed to open the door to the Lair and see her father sitting in his lounge chair, book in his hands, Minerva curled up in his lap, tea on the table waiting for her. It never mattered what time it was. He would always know. He would always be waiting for her return, no matter how busy the day, how many of his children needed bedtime stories, or how many times he and his wife sneaked out together to escape. Severus, Hermione, and Viktor would sit together, drinking tea. Draco would wander in like so many times before escaping Crabbe and Goyle to sneak into the lair. They would sit together, saying nothing, but sharing everything without words.

Minerva had been the first to go. Hermione had found her curled up in her favourite window in a sunbeam. Her head curled around with her tail so she resembled a ball. She had looked like so many times before, that Hermione had greeted her, made tea, and sat it down beside the old Animagus before her mind processed that the old tabby’s sides did not move. Hermione had reached into the Pack Song and found that essential piece of Minerva McGonagall was gone. Hermione had pulled Minerva to her, her hand stroking the old tabby’s fur as though she were alive. She pressed her face into her fur as the tears came down, and the sobs came after.

The Scottish witch had been her professor, her mentor, her Mistress, and so much her mother in magic. Hermione swore she saw that silver tabby walking down the halls when she patrolled, tail up and curved over her back, but when she ran after to find her, the corridors would be empty and she would be alone.

One by one, her Sky Brothers had been taken from her, having lived long and joyous lives. Their elemental chicks had long since grown and flown the nest, but some of them stayed in the village and remained with the Pack. Fiery Aleksander, comforting Lazar, wise and stable Valko, and proud Petya. Oh how she missed their warmth, their teasing, their banter, and their steadfast loyalty.

She would see Aleksander in the kitchen, always. She would see Lazar brewing his drinks in barrels in the back as she passed through the store. She would see Valko inclined against the wall of her garden, singing to the plants as he proclaimed it made them grow faster. She was would see Petya perched high on the steeples, singing his song in the early morning air, greeting the dawn as he always had, just before Tonks would throw a shoe at him from her open window.

She would see Remus sleeping in the garden in wolf form, children tumbling upon him, pulling his tail and tweaking his ears. Children, grandchildren, children of his friends, all of them took turns flopping on the old wolf, and he would tolerate it always, guard them always, and drool on them with love always. Tonks would often lean against him the garden, looking up at stars or the clouds, depending on the time. Sometimes they would sleep there, peaceful and serene.

She would see Sirius, growing somewhat frazzled and worn, pad up to his old friend and bow in play, and the two oldest friends would romp the gardens and into the forest like they were pups once more. They would tear around the woods like fools chasing a deer, and return to the garden covered in pine needles or leaves. They remained, until the end, best friends, always.

And one day Remus lay down in the garden under his favourite cherry tree, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. Sirius had found him, bowed himself in an offer to play, barked for his old friend to join him, but Remus never woke, and Sirius, the last of the Marauders, howled his grief to the heavens, curled up next to his best friend, and his heart gave out.

Tonks, perhaps thanks to Teddy, did not follow her mate, but there were times when she would sit with Hermione and they would both stare at the sunset together, remembering their loves and their lives together, wistful for the time when they were all together.

 

While other deaths came and went, as was expected through life and growing old, none effected as much as the death of Severus Snape. She had felt the agony as her last tendrils of the bond they shared left a gaping hole as they broke. She as she patrolled the halls of Hogwarts, and she had never run as fast through the corridors to the Headmaster’s office. She ran up the spiral staircase, flung open the door, and run in, falling to her knees at her father’s feet.

Severus Snape was inclined in his armchair, a book in his hand, tea on the table as he waited for her to finish her patrols, his eyes closed as if in sleep. It had been natural and sudden, she knew, for he had said nothing through their bond. It had simply disappeared, leaving her empty and alone. She hadn’t been alone since her second year in Hogwarts, and now, she felt the weight of all her years crash down upon her. She flung herself into her father’s lap, snuggling into him and his lingering scent.

It was almost a day after, they found her, still curled up in her father’s lap, clinging to his robes like a child of twelve. Her children sang to her in the Pack Song to bring her back from her grief and the enormity of her loss. They had found Viktor collapsed much like her in the middle of a Quidditch Pitch, having succumbed to the shock of the loss while teaching the youngest generation tips of the older generation. Harry had sat with her for days along with Viktor, offering his comfort as best he could, but a part of him knew that what the two of them had lost was more than just absence of a person but more an absence of a soul that they had shared for decades. Veronika, however, never recovered from her beloved husband’s death. One day, the old bear walked out of the gardens and never returned. They found her curled up on the grave of her husband, eyes closed as if in sleep, poised as if to guard over him in his final sleep.

Hermione and Viktor gradually recovered. Hermione became Headmistress, and life continued on. Her body grew older. Gray spread in both hers and Viktor’s hair. Their time together seemed all the more precious. They would walk together by Black Lake, and when they were sure no one was looking, they would fly together like times of old, chasing each other across the surface of the lake, allowing their wing tips to dip into the water and their talons to touch the surface as they flew.

But, one day, Viktor did not wake beside her in the morning. His arms had remained around her as his heart had given out at last, and Hermione Krum found herself truly alone in her mind. Viktor, loving, compassionate, and protective Viktor, had stayed by her side until the end of his life. Hermione had cradled Little Vik in her arms and sobbed into his soft feathers. The tiny hippogriff snuggled into her face giving her reassuring chirps. Vik was her last connection to her beloved mate, and through him, he lived on.

When she flew, now, she flew alone, but in her mind, Viktor and her father were always there. Her Sky Brothers dipped and spun in lazy circles around them. There were so many times she didn’t want to open her eyes, lest she remember that they were gone.

That left Harry and Draco, ever faithful, her brothers. Draco’s children with Astoria ran through her gardens chasing the gnomes year after year. He spent his life pulling his family name out of the gutter his father had thrown it into, and by the time his children were grown enough to marry and have their own children, Malfoy was no longer cursed in the same breath as Death Eater.

Astoria had never become one of the Pack, but she was protected by it. Her love for Draco and her children was strong and respected. She adored all the people in the village, raised many children as her own, and was accepted just as Neville and Luna were.

But one night, on a cold winter day, Hermione felt the warm coils of her brother around her neck as she fell asleep. His familiar scent and warmth reminded her of so many times at Hogwarts. And when she woke in the morning, his body was still. He was wrapped around her neck as he always did, but when her hand reached to touch his scaled head, no darting tongue flicked out to lick her fingers. He had become cold in the night. Perhaps he had known, or maybe he had been seeking that part of the Pack that always bought him peace. Whatever the reason, her brother had chosen to be with her in the end, and Hermione didn’t stop crying for weeks after. Every time she saw a favoured place to sun, a branch he loved to coil on, or her hand would go to her neck to seek the familiar warmth of her favourite Taipan choker, she would burst into tears, sometimes throwing things, sometimes sinking to her knees, and sometimes walking until her legs felt like they were falling off. She knew in her heart, that despite how close she and Harry had been, Draco had been her brother for far longer. Draco had been her first true realisation of family outside Severus. He had been her brother, her comrade, and best friend. His absence created void that could never be filled, but she lived on.

Hermione sprawled out on the loamy earth of her garden as the moon rose high over the Earth. The moon was full, and a part of her imagined Moony chasing Padfoot around the forest and leaping in the garden.

When she lay there, letting the Earth beneath her thrum with its own power of life, she could feel Viktor’s muzzle nuzzle into her neck, his tongue tongue grooming her feathers into order as he’d done so many times before. She could feel the coil of her brother around her neck, the warm bird balls gathered around her belly, and the soft touch of her Master’s hand upon her head. She closed her eyes.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry saw the dark clad figure in the garden and felt an immediate sense of foreboding and panic. Part of his mind screamed Death Eater. Finally, after all these years, they had returned to collect a debt of lives upon Hermione.

Harry leapt over the garden fence and ran towards the orchard where he saw the figure. It was Hermione’s favourite place to sleep since so many of the Pack had passed.

The dark robes were ominous. He couldn’t see a face or even hands. Who was it?

Harry had his wand out, adrenaline rushing. Years of being a trained Auror snapped into place. “Get away from her!” he yelled.

The figure turned, and Harry realised that there was no face. A gleaming skull stared out at him. Black flames flickered within his eye sockets. Bone talons curved from the back, tattered looking robes.

“What, exactly, would you do, child, if I did not concede to your request?” a voice came from the skull like face. It was like a whisper of the grave itself. “You may have my old cape, but that does not make you my master.”

Harry stared into the skull’s eyes. “What?”

The skull-like face tilted to the side, the rest of his body still. The gesture was eerily familiar. He’d seen it before, head tilted just so, stillness of the grave. Severus had often had it. Hermione had had it… Desmondon had… had it.

“Who are you?” Harry asked.

Long bony fingers extended outward and then clenched, as if to stretch them. “Many names I have been called. Mannanan, Mictlantecuhtli, Yama, Supay, shinigami, Osiris, Hades, Thanatos, Hel, Mors, Aita, Kali, Dullahan, Grim, Aminon, Barastyr, the Black Wanderer,” he said with a soft voice. “Perhaps, however, if I were to pick a favourite, it would be… Desmondon.”

“You’re Death?” Harry whispered.

“One name of many,” he replied, the black flames in his eyes sockets flickered and rose up. He extended his bony talons towards Hermione’s still form.

“Don’t!” Harry said. “Don’t touch her!”

The skull face stared at him. “You would condemn her to life without ending as her body shrivelled around her, trapping her mind that can never die?”

Harry shook her head. “No, she was fine this morning. She’s not suppose to… die before me.”

Flames flickered from Death’s pitiless skull face. “She has always been good at hiding her condition from you, Harry Potter.”

Harry staggered backward, his wand lowering slightly. He shook his head. “No.”

“She is old, child,” Death said. “She has lived a long life. Longer than one who has been dealt with far less ever sees. She has no regrets, her body is failing, her life trickles out like the sand in a hourglass. She is ready to come Home.”

“Home?” Harry whispered.

Death tilted his head. “Where the heart is, Harry Potter.” He turned back to Hermione and knelt down. His skull like face came down towards her, and he placed a kiss upon her forehead. “Time to come Home, my child,” he said softly.

“Master Desmondon?” Hermione’s voice whispered. It was tired and sleepy.

“Sleep now,” Death said softly, his skeletal hands gently pressed to her forehead and passed over her face, closing her eyes.

His bony arms wrapped around her and pulled her up to his breast. He wrapped her in the wispy blackness of his cloak, pulling her into his embrace so her head lay against his shoulder. It was a surprisingly tender gesture.

Death stepped off the ground, his body simply taking off the ground as if he had no weight at all. He began to fade into the air, his body and hers becoming transparent.

“You will see her again, Harry Potter,” Death said softly. “But not today and not tomorrow. Perhaps, not for some time.”

And with that, Death was gone, carrying Hermione Krum, mother, Headmistress, professor, friend, sister, and gryphon beyond the Veil.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione woke in a place where the light was terribly bright, and she winced, rubbing her eyes. She felt strangely rested, something she hadn’t experienced since many years previous, when her bones had been younger and less abused.

“Good morning, child,” a warm rumble of a voice greeted her.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and focused. Familiar black robes hung from the figure’s shoulders. “Master Desmondon,” she said warmly.

The vampire’s familiar bestial face was a strangely welcome sight. He was so familiar.

“You’ve had a long and happy life, child?” he asked.

Hermione smiled, thinking of her life. It was odd, she realised that she felt no pain over it anymore. “A long and happy life, Master,” she said with a nod.

“I am gladdened to hear it,” Desmondon said tenderly, his eyes, black as they were, had a warmth to them. “Your Pack had been waiting for you,” he said to her. “Impatiently, I might add.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. She looked around her. All around here were green hills and forests. She could smell the water of the nearby lake. There was the smell of earth and loam. She stood, looking around her in wonder as the wind shook the grass, making it rustle with a shimmer.

“Took your time, Ari,” a painfully familiar voice said. She turned and saw a blond short-haired younger Draco Malfoy. “I blame your damnable good health.”

“Coils?” She whispered.

“In the scales, sister mine,” Draco answered her, his broad Slytherin grin was painfully beautiful.

Hermione rushed up to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. “Brother?”

Draco looked into her eyes, his silver-grey ones flickered with emotion. “It’s me.”

“Bought time our sestrá finally get here,” Aleksander’s voice said.

“Tired of being the only one who keeps Petya from burning all the food,” Lazar replied.

“Tired of having to bury the evidence,” Valko said with a sniff.

“Not my fault,” Petya complained. “I didn’t know you could burn food here!”

Hermione stared as her Sky Brothers came out of the foliage, solidifying in her vision as though they had just walked out of the fog. “My brothers,” she whispered in Bulgarian.

“Psh,” Viktor’s voice said. “Mate so distracted by brothers that she doesn’t even notice me. Will have to have epic battle after all to win back mate.”

“Viktor?” Hermione breathed. She ran up to him and halted, suddenly unsure. She reached out to touch his face, and paused, looking fearful.

Viktor placed his palm to her cheek and stroked it, his thumb moving across her nose to wipe her tears. “Is me, Her-my-own.”

She clung to him, burying her face into his neck. His arms went around her in his oh so familiar embrace.

“She’s excited, and she hasn’t even seen the library,” Minerva’s voice said with a grin sounding in her voice.

Hermione pulled away from Viktor to see Minerva approaching. The Animagus wasted no time getting to her, turning into her cat form, running up at top speed, and leaping into Hermione’s arms. Hermione clung to Minerva with tears in her eyes. “Minerva,” she whispered, a tremble in her voice.

The silver tabby cat rubbed against her face, running her whiskers across her cheeks.

There was movement, and she saw Desmondon turning to leave.

Hermione set down Minerva carefully and walked after him. “Master Desmondon?”

The vampire turned to her.

Hermione rushed up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a combination of relief and thankfulness.

Desmondon placed a white hand to her hair and stroked it gently. “You have earned this peace, my child,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “Enjoy it.”

“Will I see you again?” Hermione asked.

The ancient vampire laughed genuinely. “You need only ask, dear child,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead in a kiss. “But there are others you should be greeting before you call for my company.”

“She’s forgetting about us already, Moony,” Sirius’ voice chuckled as he approached. Remus was at his side with a broad grin. Hermione turned to meet them, an amazed look upon her face. When she turned to look towards Desmondon, she found he had disappeared. She rushed up to Sirius and Remus, and they pulled her into a warm hug.

“About time you got here,” Sirius complained. “Moony seems to think I don’t groom him as well as you do.”

Hermione laughed, hugged the two Marauder’s tight.

“He’s waiting for you,” Remus said, a warm smile about his face.

Sirius grinned, pointing over his shoulder. “Follow that silver tabby.”

Hermione saw Minerva’s tail waving in the wind and took off after her down the grassy hillside.

Minerva was on a mission, and Hermione found herself pressed to keep up as a human. She was tempted to shift, but then she figured if she caught up to Minerva, she’d have to wait for her to lead her the rest of the way agonisingly slowly.

She followed after the tabby over a hill, through part of the woods, a garden that looked very familiar, and to a cottage she recognised as the Lair. Minerva had already darted in, and Hermione rushed up to the door and stopped. She pondered if she should knock, or if the normal walking right in rules applied.

Deciding to take life into her hands, she walked in.

A dark clad Potion Master sat at a round table. His hand was holding a book, and tea was set out on the table. Minerva was curled up in his lap, tail flicking lazily. There was an extra cup sitting on the table… waiting for her, as it always was.

He was waiting for her, as he always did.

:Father,: she rushed up to him and lay her head in his lap, slightly squishing Minerva in her enthusiasm.

The softest touch of his hand was on her hair, soothing her hair as though it were her feathers.

:My daughter,: he whispered into her mind. :Sit, and have tea with me.:

Hermione stared up into the black eyes of her father and Master and beamed at him. :Your will is mine.:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank all of you that have supported me through this whirlwind that was this story. I never though I’d have a story that yanked me by the heart strings like A Chance for Happiness, and I couldn’t be happier to be wrong. It has been an exercise of canon and non, characters that never change, and those that evolve. It has been a ride without sleep, too much coffee, not enough tea, and everything in between.  
> I take the time, however, to thank a special group of you that have practically posted reviews for just about every chapter from the very beginning till the end. It is people like you that made me persevere. I love you all.  
> Special thanks to those who have put up with my oddball messages at 2am looking for sounding boards or provided moral support when I desperately needed it, but not limited to: Bookwormkat1, SereniteRose, Shorty653, DutchGirl01, Kallanit, the dragon and the rose, Kermit 304, AriBridge, samdeesingh, carick of hunter moon, and LuresaSWTOR. There are so many more of you than names I can remember off the top of my head, and for that, you have my apologies, but please, do not think that makes you any less special. There were times when I sat uninspired and unsure where to go, and that one review came in at just the right time and made me happy.   
> And hugs to those of you like waitedforlove743, who took a chance to read a story they wouldn’t normally read and let me know that they not only did, but liked it, and Stalwart77, who let me know my stories helped them through some tough times. I am glad, so very glad, that one story can reach so many different people.
> 
> Last but not least, a thanks to those such as iscariot, who challenged me to do better with brutal honesty. Constructive reviews may not make a person feel that great when you get them, but they are helpful, as they should be, and someone had to do it.
> 
> All I ask from you, my faithful, my random guests, and my drive-by readers, is to please leave a review and let me know what you thought of the story. Tell me if you had a favourite character or favourite scene! I'd love to hear about it!
> 
> I appreciate you all. While I write to write rather than to a specific audience, your generous support has helped me get through my own difficult times, and that is its own priceless gift.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> P.s. Sorry if I created a tissue vortex. I swear the ending was happy. HAPPY! I just had to make it sad to get to happy. I swear happy was the goal!


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